


Case Study

by Purseplayer



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2885828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purseplayer/pseuds/Purseplayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe, Kurt and Blaine room together at Dalton Academy for Special Education, a boarding school for boys and girls who suffer from various mental health issues.  Each boy carries his own burden, and they couldn't be more different... but sometimes the right differences can make two people fit.</p><p>Written for the 2014 Klaine Advent Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story takes place in an AU world where Kurt and Blaine both have serious mental health disorders and end up rooming together at a boarding school geared towards special education. I work in mental health, so I’m familiar with this stuff and will try to be as accurate as possible, but please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. This story will be extremely angsty at times, and also extremely fluffy. Please heed any individual chapter warnings.
> 
> Also, Kurt and Blaine are in the same grade here, both juniors at the start of the story.
> 
> A huge thank you to my faithful beta, PurplePen, who never fails to catch my silly mistakes!

_October 2010_ ~ Ache

Blaine’s heart ached even more than his arms under the strain of the heavy box.  He bit his lip to keep the sobs from coming out as he stared up at the imposing brick building before him.

Dalton Academy for Special Education.  Mama and Daddy and especially Cooper had tried to make it sound really nice.  He’d have his very own room with his very own bathroom and his very own roommate.  There’d be special teachers who were really, really nice and wanted to help him with his learning, just like Mrs. Applewood when she came to Blaine’s house that one time and spent the afternoon playing games with him.  She had told Mama he was charming and he’d fit right in.

Blaine was stupid, but he wasn’t _that_ stupid.  His new school might be nice with nice people and nice things, but it still meant he wouldn’t be seeing Mama and Daddy hardly ever, and that made Blaine feel really, really sad.

But Blaine was a big boy.  He wasn’t going to cry—at least not now, while they were still with him.

“Come along, Blaine,” Mama said gently, taking his elbow to guide him towards the school.

Blaine was a big boy, a good boy.  He went.

*******

Blaine’s room was big and neat and empty.  His roommate was still in classes, and Mama and Daddy sat with Blaine on his bed to wait until he showed up, because they wanted to meet him too.  Blaine was glad for an excuse to keep them here longer.  He didn’t feel safe here, didn’t want to be in this strange too-big room in this strange too-big building alone.

He hugged Rex tight to his chest as the door creaked open, and the prettiest boy Blaine had maybe ever seen walked in.  He was frowning _a lot_ , and he frowned at Blaine, and Blaine wanted to sink into the floor or maybe disappear altogether.  Not for the first time, he wished he could be a genie, like in Aladdin.  That was his very favorite movie.

“You must be Kurt,” Mama said when the boy ignored them, walking to his side of the room and smoothing the blankets on his already-perfect bed, fluffing the pillows, moving on to fiddle with the few items on his desk.

“Yes,” Kurt said in a clipped tone, not looking at them.  “And you must be Blaine, and Blaine’s parents.”  He finally stopped, picked up his desk chair and sat it just-so in front of his bed, sat himself down on it primly, facing the three of them.  “That’s good.  I need to make sure he understands the rules.”

“Rules?” Blaine said, hating it when his voice came out scared.

Kurt nodded.  “I run a very tight ship around here, as you can see.  I like to keep things neat.  I can see you dress nicely yourself, so hopefully we won’t have a problem.  To start out on the right foot, I’ve set aside some time this evening to help you arrange your things.”

“I think—“ Blaine’s father started, but Kurt fixed him with a pointed look and he shut his mouth.

“I’ve taken the liberty of printing you a copy of the Dalton schedule as well as my own personal schedule,” Kurt continued.  I realize that you’ll want to determine yours for yourself, and that you may need a little more… _flexibility_ … but if you don’t mind, I’d like a copy of your schedule as soon as possible.  I’m sure I don’t have to ask you to be respectful of my bathroom, wake, and sleep times, or the time I’ve set aside for studying.”

Blaine stared at him, flabbergasted, and didn’t know what to say.

“Well,” Mama began with some trepidation.  “Blaine’s a good boy, Kurt, and he keeps his things fairly neat.  I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out.”

Kurt nodded at her.  “Thank you,” he said, and stood, picking up his chair, moving back to his desk where he sat and opened a book, clearly dismissing them.

Blaine couldn’t take it anymore.  He whimpered, turning to lean into his mother, nuzzling into the familiar warmth of her neck.  “Mama,” he begged.  “Mama, please don’t go!  Please don’t leave me here!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Mama said.  “We’ve talked about this, darling.  We’re doing this for you.  You can get help here, help we simply can’t provide for you at home.”

“We’re only a phone call away, Blaine,” Daddy reminded him.  “Anything you need, anytime at all, you just call.”

Blaine cried, and clung, and he didn’t look up to be sure, but he thought that Mama might be crying too.

“Here,” Mama nudged him until he sat up a little, pointing at something on the printed piece of paper in her hand.  “It says here that dinner is at 5:30, Blaine.  That’s in twenty minutes.  We’d better get going so you don’t miss it.  And then afterwards, maybe Kurt here will help you get settled, hmm?”

“7 o’clock,” Kurt said without looking up.

“Not hungry,” Blaine said, tightening his vice-grip around Mama’s waist.

“Blaine,” Daddy said.  “Blaine, come on now, son, let your mother up, let her breathe.”

Slowly, sobbing helplessly, Blaine did as he was asked.

Mama stood and cupped his face.  “We’ll call you tonight, alright then sweetheart?  You have your cell phone?”

Blaine nodded.

“Well,” Daddy said, “goodbye then.”  He stepped close, gave Blaine one of the familiar, awkward hugs he saved for special occasions, patting Blaine’s back so hard it hurt.  Mama told him once that that meant Daddy loved him.

“Goodbye,” Blaine whispered, and watched Mama take Daddy’s outstretched hand, watched them walk away, Mama waving as the door swung shut.  He stared at it for a long time, then finally had a thought and hurried to the window, just in time to see them get into the car and drive away.

“Well,” Kurt said behind him.  “Time to walk down to dinner.  Are you coming?”

Blaine looked at Kurt and shook his head.

***

When Kurt came back, he had a container of food for Blaine.  “It’s too late for eating,” he said.  “But still, you should eat something.”

Blaine did eat, managing a smile for the boy who maybe wasn’t so bad, after all.  And besides that, he _was_ awfully pretty.

At 7 o’clock they arranged Blaine’s closet according to color and clothing style, then lined up Blaine’s bowties in a drawer so precisely that they reminded him of a rainbow when they were finished.  They fixed up Blaine’s desk, and Kurt remade his bed because apparently Mama did it wrong even though Blaine really didn’t think so.  Everything was done by 8 o’clock when Kurt announced that it was time for him to sew.

Blaine spent the next hour watching the way the pretty boy’s hair hung down over his eyes when he bent his neck, the graceful, repetitive movement of his hands as he poked the needle in and out, in and out.  Not so bad, he thought, and his heart ached a little bit less.


	2. Balance

_November 2010_ ~ Balance

Kurt couldn’t find much to complain about with Blaine; he was a vast improvement over the boys Kurt had been forced to share space with in the past.

Kurt hardly ever felt the need to yell at him.  Blaine was good with Kurt’s rules and routines, seemed to thrive under them, in fact—even if he had needed a little help getting started.  Kurt had pressured and prodded Blaine for a copy of his daily timetable for a full week before finally sitting down with the boy to come up with one together.  Blaine had seemed positively thrilled when he’d finally had the pristine, type-written schedule in hand.  Now it was printed neatly on their white board next to Kurt’s. 

Blaine liked to use a dry-erase marker to check off each activity as it occurred: Wake-up, Bathroom, Dress, Breakfast, Arithmetic…

Kurt didn’t mind so much.

Kurt _liked_ Blaine.

He didn’t bother Kurt in the morning, didn’t even wake up until Kurt had finished in the bathroom.  He was good at following a schedule, never late to walk down for breakfast or any other meal, never leaving Kurt to pace anxiously as the minutes ticked past too-late or feel rude because he couldn’t stand it anymore and had to go down without him.

He didn’t bother Kurt in the evenings, content to sit quietly on his own side of the room during study time unless he had a question.  After the third time Kurt snapped at him for the disturbance, they worked out a system whereby Blaine would get up and stand quietly next to Kurt’s desk whenever he needed help, waiting patiently to get his attention.

The “flex time” that Kurt’s therapist, Mrs. Faber, had encouraged him to work into his schedule each evening had now unofficially become _their_ time.  Kurt had taken to showing Blaine all of his favorite musicals.  Blaine seemed to truly enjoy them; he had never seen a musical before outside of Disney movies and the performance of _Man of La Mancha_ his brother had starred in while in high school.  He’d barely seen any real movies at all except a few “grown-up movies” Cooper had shown him once before their mother had caught them and complained.  Kurt had gotten a little nervous when he mistakenly thought that “grown-up movies” equated to porn; apparently, Cooper had only shown him Forest Gump and Titanic.

Blaine _loved_ Forest Gump.  Kurt wasn’t surprised—it seemed to him that Blaine and Forest had a good bit in common.

A few times the movies they watched had run over into sewing time without Kurt noticing, and he had panicked, and Blaine had gotten scared.  But then Mr. Francis, the resident assistant, had shown up and helped them sort things out.  Now Kurt did his sewing while the movies finished.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet.

But it made Blaine happy.  Sometimes he got upset when they had to switch the movie off in the middle and wait until tomorrow, and for some reason, it bothered Kurt when Blaine was upset.

Every night at nine, after sewing hour was over and the movie was over, Kurt would take his turn in the bathroom first and then during Blaine’s turn, he would select their outfits for the following day.  That was one of the very best things about Blaine: Kurt picked out his clothes and Blaine never questioned his choices, always seemed so happy to put them on in the morning, so long as Kurt included a bowtie.

Kurt thought that wearing a bowtie _every_ day was a bit much, but on Blaine it looked kind of cute, and he was supposed to be practicing understanding that other people had feelings and maybe didn’t have the same preferences as he did.

Well, _of_ _course_ other people had feelings.  Kurt hated it when Mrs. Faber tried to talk to him about feelings; he knew about feelings; he wasn’t _stupid_ and he wasn’t a bad person.  He was sick, or so they kept insisting.

Kurt preferred to think of himself as a perfectionist and leave it at that.  Things were so much better, so much easier when the world was orderly.  Although of course it would never be truly perfect, or other people would understand that, too.

Blaine didn’t understand, not really.  But he tried for Kurt.  _Balance_ , Mrs. Faber had said.  It was all about finding a balance.

Kurt looked forward to seeing Blaine after a day of separate classes.  He was surprised to find that their room was as much a sanctuary for him now as it had been when it was only his. 

Today he only had to stand outside their door for two minutes before his watch registered that it was exactly 3 o’clock, and he went in.

Blaine was already there, lying on his bed with Kurt’s monthly issue of Vogue spread out in front of him.  “Hey, Kurt!” he said happily in greeting.

Kurt bit his lip to keep from snapping at him, because he only had half an hour until study time and that was his new issue of Vogue and he had to read it now or he would have to wait until tomorrow, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about Blaine touching _his_ magazine before he had touched it, or at all.  But it was Blaine, and Blaine was smiling, so…

“Hey,” Kurt said, hanging his bag and coat carefully on their designated hooks.  “Is that any good?”

Blaine nodded happily.  “Emma Watson is on the cover,” he said, pointing.

Blaine _loved_ Harry Potter.  Kurt was surprised he’d been allowed to watch Harry Potter.  Kurt tolerated Blaine’s love of Harry Potter only marginally.

But Emma Watson was kind of gracefully badass, so Kurt smiled and nodded.  “Nice,” he said, and went to his bed to grab the novel he’d been reading.

He was halfway through the second paragraph of chapter four when—“Kurt.  Kurt!”

“What!” he yelled, then softened when he saw the hurt look on Blaine’s face.  “What is it, Blaine?”

“I, umm… I wanted to tell you I changed the schedule.”

“You changed the… what did you do!?”  He flew off his bed, straight to their board.

Seven o’clock flex time had been erased and re-named in Blaine’s messy, uneven scrawl.

“Kurt and Blaine time,” Blaine said timidly.  “That’s what it is now, right?  I just thought that was better.”

Kurt took a deep breath and reminded himself to stay calm.  “Kurt and Blaine time,” he repeated.  “Next time ask first, Blaine.”

Blaine was silent as Kurt grabbed the marker, used the little eraser on the back to remove Blaine’s scribbling and reprint the same words more neatly, first on his own schedule and then on Blaine’s.  When he was satisfied that the letters looked as even as possible, he returned the marker to its spot and turned to Blaine.

Blaine was staring at him, his expression unreadable.  “It was a good idea, Blaine.  I like _Kurt and Blaine time_.  It makes me happy.”  He thought that was good, that he’d shared a feeling.  Mrs. Faber would like that, would be proud of him, even if it made him itch with discomfort.

He used to be so much better at the whole “feelings” thing.

Blaine beamed at him.  “It makes me happy, too.”

Sometimes, a little discomfort was worth it.


	3. Cloud

_December 2010_ ~ Cloud

When Mama and Daddy brought Blaine back from Thanksgiving break, they brought him back with a small, 2.5-foot tree and an assortment of small-ish ornaments that Blaine had picked out himself.  There were blue ones the color of Kurt’s eyes, and red ones because that was Blaine’s favorite color.  There were a few random ones he liked, too—a pretty reindeer, an elf who kind-of-sort-of looked like Kurt (Cooper had advised him not to tell Kurt that), an owl that reminded Blaine of Hedwig (or _was_ Hedwig; Blaine wasn’t sure), a music note that sang “Deck the Halls” if you pressed it, and a funny ornament Cooper gave him that was supposed to be the sleep-number sheep.  Blaine didn’t know what a sleep-number sheep was supposed to look like, but he personally thought it looked more like a cloud with a head. 

He was very, very excited to show the tree to Kurt; so excited that his legs jumped in his seat.  When he was finally let out of the car, he had to run run run to get to their room where Kurt would be.  He had _missed_ Kurt.  It was frustrating being with his parents now because he couldn’t help but talk about Kurt all the time, but when he had told them about the schedule Kurt helped him make and how Kurt picked him out all the best outfits and the way he and Kurt did everything together and that they had _Kurt and Blaine time_ together, Mama and Daddy frowned.

Only Cooper seemed to like to hear about Kurt.  He had ruffled Blaine’s hair and said, “Sounds like this boy is something special, squirt!  You really like him.”  Well, _duh_!

Mama had frowned even harder and said, “I think you should try to make some other friends, dear.”

Blaine had huffed because he _had_ other friends.  There was Brittany and Jeff and Becky who were in all of his classes, and they were nice except for Becky who was usually not-so-nice, but Blaine liked her anyway.  There was Sam in some of his classes who seemed really awesome, and Blaine wanted to spend more time with him except he had to explain about _Kurt and Blaine time_ , and he thought maybe Sam didn’t really understand. 

When Blaine got to their room he threw the door open, and there was Kurt, lying on his bed with a brand-new copy of _Vogue_.  Blaine forgot all about the tree when he saw him, shoving it out of his arms and onto his desk so he could launch himself onto his friend.

Kurt made a tiny _oomph_ noise when Blaine fell against him.  It took him a few seconds, but then he draped his arms around Blaine’s neck and said “ _Blaine_ ” into Blaine’s ear, and Blaine hugged him tighter.

“I missed you,” he said.

Kurt laughed and tugged away, and his cheeks were a funny shade of pink.  “You talked to me almost every day on the phone,” he said.

“I know,” Blaine told him.  “Not the same.  I brought us a tree!”  He gestured to the desk.  “Do you like it?”

Kurt’s eyes fell to the tree, and he stared.

“Kurt?” Blaine prompted.

“I—“ Kurt said finally.  “It’s nice, Blaine.”

Blaine beamed.  “I got us ornaments too.  All kinds.  Wait until you see!”

Blaine’s parents showed up at the door just then with his bags, which he took and tossed into the middle of their bedroom floor.  “Thank you!” Blaine told them.  “See you at Christmas!”

Mama put her hands on her hips and gave him The Look.  “Don’t I at least get a hug, young man?”

“Oh.  Of course, Mama.”  He hurried into her arms, then flung himself at his father as well, not even giving him time to hit his back before he was off again.  “See Kurt, see!” he said, tearing open the suitcase to pull out his treasures.

“Be safe and have fun, Blaine,” Mama said, lingering in the doorway.  “We love you.”

Finally, he spared her a good long look.  She looked sad, and Blaine felt a matching pang in his own heart.  “Love you too, Mama, Daddy.  I’ll call you!”

They nodded, and she blew him a kiss, and then they were gone.

“Kurt, look!  Kurt, look!”  He pulled out the ornaments one at a time and held them up for Kurt to see, being extra careful with the owl because it was made of real feathers and glitter and stuff.

“Wow, Blaine.”  Kurt said.  “Those… those don’t match.”

“I picked out all the best ones,” Blaine informed him, “and Cooper gave me the sheep—doesn’t it look like a cloud?”

“Where will we put the tree?” Kurt said, his voice sounding odd and distant to Blaine’s ears.  “Where can we possibly—we have thirteen minutes to decide and then—where will we put it?”

“We could put it on my desk,” Blaine suggested, but Kurt shook his head.

“No.  No, that would throw off the symmetry in the room, Blaine.”

“We could put it in the corner by the closet.”

Kurt kept shaking his head.  “No, no… we could try…”  He sighed.  “How about the table between our beds?”

“Sure,” Blaine said.  He began to remove the pictures, push over the alarm clocks that decorated their shared nightstand.  When he finished, he spun around to fetch the tree, only to find Kurt standing there, staring at the pile of pictures on the floor as if horrified.  “Kurt?” he said.

Kurt didn’t answer.  Maybe he was just waiting to see the tree.  Blaine hurried over to get it, making sure to place it perfectly in the middle of the table.  It looked pretty plain right now, he thought, but it would be much prettier once they put the ornaments on.

He turned back to Kurt, who hadn’t moved.

“It’s all wrong,” Kurt said.  “It’s…”  He stepped forward, fell to his knees, began to hurriedly pick up all the pictures from the floor.  He started to arrange them around the tree, but there wasn’t enough room, and he knocked one over with his elbow.

Blaine went to pick it up, and saw Kurt’s face.  It was a little red and puffy and… Kurt was crying.

“Kurt?  Kurt, what’s wrong?”

Kurt was staring vacantly at a picture of himself with an older, bald man, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Kurt?”

“I have to… I have to go.” Kurt said, backing out of the room.

Blaine looked at the clock.  “But it’s three minutes till…”

The door closed, and Kurt was gone.

Blaine wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew that it was bad.  Kurt was sad, and he had left Blaine alone for study time, and Kurt was always there for study time and Blaine needed him there so Kurt could help him and…

Slowly, he made his way to his bed, sitting down and snatching Rex off his pillows on instinct. 

This was bad.

***

He didn’t know how long he sat there until the door opened and Kurt came in, Mr. Francis right behind him.

“Hi,” he said to them, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Hello, Blaine,” Mr. Francis said, smiling at him.  That made Blaine feel a little bit better.  “Kurt here told me he was having some trouble with the Christmas tree you brought in.”

Blaine looked to Kurt in confusion, then back to Mr. Francis.  “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Mr. Francis said.  “It’s a very nice tree.  Kurt and I thought that maybe, it would be a good idea to set it up on a little table outside your room, so that all of us can enjoy your lovely decorations.”

“You’d like that?” Blaine said, his face pulling into a grin.  Mr. Francis nodded.  “You’d like that Kurt?”

Kurt looked at him sadly, but nodded as well.  Blaine frowned again.  He didn’t like that Kurt was still sad.

Mr. Francis looked back and forth between the two boys, smiled again and said, “Great.  Well, I’ll see you then, boys.  Have a nice evening, and let me know if you need anything else.”

Blaine nodded, and Kurt said a soft, “Thank you, Mr. Francis.”  He sat next to Blaine on Blaine’s bed as the door closed, and Blaine looked at him, worried.

“Kurt,” he asked, “why are you so sad?”

Kurt stared down at his hands, folding them together in his lap.  “Blaine,” he said, “you know I’m not here for the same reasons as you are, right?”

Blaine nodded, because he’d figured that out several weeks ago.  “That’s why you’re in different classes,” he said.

Kurt nodded.  “I’m here because I have some… problems… with things being, well, I guess you could say out of control.  I like things to be scheduled.  I like things to be neat, and when they’re not… well.  You know how it feels when someone you love is sick and you have to sit and wait to hear if they’ll get better?”

Blaine thought for a minute.  “Not really,” he said.

Kurt sighed.  “Okay, what about just waiting?  When you have to wait for something you really want?”

“Like on Christmas morning when you have to stay in your room until all the presents are ready?”

“… and your legs fidget and you feel all this energy inside and it’s all you can do not to run from the room?” Kurt added.

“Yeah,” Blaine said, relieved that they’d gotten somewhere.  “Yeah, that’s _exactly_ right!  It’s almost Christmas, Kurt!”

“I know.  I know, Blaine.  And I know you want to decorate, and I know it makes you happy.  But when things aren’t in order, that’s how I feel, like all that energy.  Only it’s not fun for me; it just feels like… instead of wanting something to happen, I just have to fix things.  Until they’re perfect.  Can you try to understand that?”

Blaine frowned.  “I’m not perfect,” he confessed.  “How can you like me when I’m not perfect?”

“Nobody’s perfect, Blaine,” Kurt said with a frown of his own.  “And I do like you… quite a lot.  Which is why I want you to be happy.  Which is why… I can’t handle the tree,” he confessed.  “It’s not… there’s nothing wrong with it, Blaine, but it doesn’t go with the room, and the ornaments don’t match.”

He looked at Blaine, eyes pleading for something.  It reminded Blaine a little of his dog back home, how he looked when he wanted a walk, only sadder. 

Blaine didn’t understand why it was important that the ornaments all matched, but he understood it was important to Kurt.  He nodded.

Kurt smiled at that, just a small smile.  “I want you to be happy.  So if it’s okay, Mr. Francis is going to drive us into town at 10 o’clock on Saturday morning, and we can pick out some decorations together for the room.”

Blaine beamed.  He wasn’t sure what was better—the thought of getting to buy _more_ Christmas decorations, or the thought of getting to take a trip with Kurt.  “Yes.  Yes, Kurt, I want to go!”

Kurt smiled back at him, and that made Blaine even happier.  “Will you help me clean this up?” he asked.  “I need the pictures right back where they were.”

Blaine nodded, already hopping up to help.  Kurt almost never let Blaine help, but Blaine loved it when he did.

He saw the clock and froze.  “Kurt!  Kurt, we missed study time!  It’s 18 minutes till dinner!”

Kurt took a deep breath.  “I know,” he said simply.  “Which is why we need to hurry.  Can you do that for me?”

Blaine nodded.  He could do almost anything for Kurt.

He couldn’t be perfect, but he could try.


	4. Dessert

_January 2011_ ~ Dessert

Kurt knew it would happen eventually, because as good as Blaine was with the schedule, he wasn’t Kurt.  He didn’t understand the benefits of planning his time, didn’t need to do it like Kurt did.  So when Blaine burst into their room one day too-late, at precisely 3:33 when Kurt was _studying_ —and why was that so hard to remember?—Kurt was resigned rather than surprised.

That didn’t stop the irritation, biting at his throat, itching at his tongue, demanding Kurt snap at him.

Kurt bit his lip instead and glared.  He glared at Blaine’s smile, and he glared at Blaine’s shoulder bag, tossed carelessly on his bed instead of hung on its hook where Blaine very well knew it belonged.  Of course, Blaine didn’t seem to notice the glaring.

“Kurt, Kurt, Kurt!” he said, with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old on the morning of his birthday.  “Guess what guess what!  Sam and Jeff and Nick are going sledding tonight, Kurt, and Mr. Francis is taking a bunch of us, and they want us to come!”

“Sledding isn’t on the schedule, Blaine,” Kurt pointed out as calmly as he could manage.  “And it’s _study time_ , now.”

Blaine frowned.  “We can study now,” he said.  “Sledding is later.”

“How later?” Kurt asked.

“Umm,” Blaine said.  “They’re leaving at 6:30.”

“But 6:30 is when we clean the room, Blaine.  And 7 is Kurt and Blaine time, and then I have sewing at 8…”

“I know that,” Blaine said, a little sheepishly.  “I just thought… this sounded fun, and we can maybe not clean for just one day.  And you could come with me, and then we could still have our time together.”

“Sledding isn’t on the schedule,” Kurt repeated, his heart sinking in his chest.  Kurt had been keeping Blaine for himself for so long now that it was painful to imagine anything different, but Blaine wasn’t Kurt; he _liked_ new things and new people. “You should go, though, if that’s what you want.” 

Kurt could do _Kurt and Blaine time_ on his own.  Somehow.

Blaine looked crestfallen.  “But I wanted to do it with you,” he said softly.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, giving him a look that was part exasperation, part apologetic.  “ _I can’t go.”_

“I told Sam I would go.  I told him I would try to bring you too.”

Kurt shrugged.  “You can still go,” he said.  “Now if you don’t mind, I need to study.”

“Alright, Kurt,” Blaine said, sounding small.  Kurt stared purposely at his notebook as Blaine hung up his bag, got out his things, and went to work at his desk. 

He didn’t ask for help during the next two hours, not even once.

*******

It was _Kurt and Blaine time_ , and Kurt didn’t know what to do.  He tried watching his favorite movie, but it didn’t feel quite right without Blaine there.  He tried re-organizing his clothes, but he only got frustrated with the new arrangement and had to put them back again.  Finally, he decided to read a chapter ahead for his English class.  That felt a little bit better, but it was still wrong.

It was still wrong during sewing time.  Without even thinking about it, Kurt made Blaine a bowtie out of some spare fabric.  Blaine and his stupid bowties and his stupid cheerfulness and his stupid need to have other friends who weren’t Kurt.

By 9 o’clock, Blaine still wasn’t back, but he was there when Kurt stepped out of the bathroom, five full minutes early because, well, he’d been _hoping_ Blaine would be there.

He was there, puffy coat still buttoned up to his throat and grinning, winter-red cheeks and sparkling eyes and a drippy, lidded cup clutched in one gloved hand.

“Kurt!” Blaine said, like seeing Kurt was the Best Thing in the World.  “I brought you ice cream!  We stopped for ice cream and it was so good and they had strawberry cheesecake and I thought of you because you only ever eat dessert at dinner when it’s cheesecake, and Mr. Francis said I could bring you some, so.”

_I can’t eat ice cream, Blaine,_ Kurt thought.  _It’s 9:30 and I just brushed my teeth and do you know how many calories that has and I have to pick out our clothes; I can’t eat ice cream_.

“Thank you,” he said, and took the cup.  “That was very thoughtful of you, Blaine.”

Blaine beamed impossibly wider, and on impulse, Kurt ducked in to kiss his cheek.

“I wish you’d gone with us,” Blaine said.  “I missed you all night, Kurt, and we had so much fun.”

Kurt smiled at him, and it wasn’t even forced.  “I know it’s your bathroom time,” he said, “but this ice cream is going to melt soon.  Share it with me?”

Blaine nodded, so happy.  They got to bed ten minutes late that night, but just this once, maybe that was okay.


	5. Evening

_February 2011 ~_ Evening

Blaine liked to sort out his favorite things.  Sometimes they changed, like how mornings used to be his favorite time of day because of breakfast, but now evenings were his very favorite because of Kurt.  He couldn’t decide about his favorite holiday anymore.  It had always been Christmas, because his favorite color was red and because _presents_ , duh.  But now it was almost Valentine’s Day, which also had red and was a day about love.  Suddenly, Blaine found love a lot more interesting than he used to.

Maybe it was because Kurt had declared February ‘Romantic Movie Month’, and every evening during _Kurt and Blaine time_ Kurt would put in a romantic movie.  Blaine hadn’t liked that at first because most of the time when they watched them, Kurt would cry.  But then Blaine kind of did like them because Kurt would cry and cuddle up next to Blaine on the bed and rest his head on Blaine’s shoulder and let Blaine put his arms around him, and Blaine really, really liked that.  It worried Blaine, though, until Kurt told him that you were _supposed_ to cry during romantic movies, at least the sad ones.  Blaine wasn’t sure he believed that even though Kurt never ever lied.

Tonight they were watching an obscure old musical called _I Do, I Do!_ , which Blaine thought would be kind of boring because it was filmed on a stage, until he realized it all took place between a couple in their bedroom, which was kind of like him and Kurt.  Kurt didn’t cry until a really pretty song came on, and Blaine got to put his arm around him, and Blaine was a little distracted because _Kurt_ , but the lyrics still caught his attention.

__

_Sometimes in the morning, when shadows are deep_  
I lie here beside you, just watching you sleep  
And sometimes I whisper, what I'm thinking of  
My cup runneth over with love

_Sometimes in the evening, when you do not see_  
I study the small things, you do constantly  
I memorize moments that I'm fondest of  
My cup runneth over with love

_In only a moment, we both will be old_  
We won't even notice the world turning cold  
And so in this moment with sunlight above  
My cup runneth over with love

“Kurt?” Blaine said, even though he knew Kurt sometimes got mad when he interrupted the movie.  “Kurt, what does it mean that ‘my cup runneth over’?  How do cups run?  Is it like Chip in _Beauty and the Beast_?”  


Kurt sniffled and laughed.  “It means that they feel so much love, Blaine, that it overwhelms them.  Like when you get so excited about something that you jump up and down and pace around our room.”

“Oh,” Blaine said.  “Okay.”

He thought about it for the next week.  He even asked Ms. Genna, his therapist, _how do you know when you love someone?_   And they talked about the different kinds of love and being _in_ love and how Blaine’s always really, really wanted to be in love, and after all of that Blaine realized that maybe right now, he actually was.

Because evenings with _Kurt and Blaine time_ were his favorite time of day now, and even though red was still his favorite color, the blue of Kurt’s eyes was a close second.  And Kurt’s smile was Blaine’s favorite thing to see and making Kurt happy was his favorite thing to do and even though he loved Mama and Daddy and Cooper and his friends back home, Kurt was kind of his very favorite person.

And when he got so excited about something that he jumped up and down and paced around their room, it was usually about Kurt.  _My cup runneth over_ , Blaine thought, because it had taken a week but he thought he understood it now.

The thing was that now he had to, had to, _had to_ tell Kurt, and it needed to be perfect because Kurt needed things to be perfect.

He didn’t trust himself to do it right, so he called Cooper.  And Cooper had _way_ too many ideas, like flowers (Kurt would hate it when they died) and chocolates (Kurt didn’t eat sweets “on principle”, except when he couldn’t help but eat them because they were cheesecake) and valentines and serenades and a fancy date.

Well, Blaine could do some of that, he figured.  He couldn’t do everything so it wouldn’t really be perfect, but Kurt knew he wasn’t perfect and Kurt liked him, right?

He hoped so.

Blaine was proud of himself because he was being smart about this.  Valentine’s Day was on a Sunday, thankfully, which Kurt usually devoted almost entirely to studying and cleaning and yoga and calling his family, but Blaine was smart and asked for three hours in advance from 1 o’clock to 4 o’clock.  He told him _“it’s important, Kurt, I need you!”_ , which were all the magic words to get Kurt to do something he wanted.  And just like that, Blaine had a date.

He had a tiny potted rosebush and a large red-heart Valentine that said _Be Mine, Valentine_ in letters that were only a _little_ crooked and a slice of no-sugar-added strawberry cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory and a recording of the music to _All You Need Is Love_ by the Beatles.  Thank God for Cooper, because Blaine couldn’t have made this half as perfect without his brother’s help. 

His heart was pounding faster, faster, t00-fast as he waited for Kurt to get back from lunch.

At precisely 1 o’clock the door opened, and Kurt was standing in the doorway, and Blaine didn’t know how he didn’t see it before because Kurt wasn’t just _pretty_ , he was the Most Beautiful Boy Blaine had ever seen.

Kurt’s eyes widened at Blaine standing there, fidgety, in a suit, at the cluster of items Blaine had placed on his desk, and for a moment Blaine worried that he might be angry or sad because Blaine messed up the symmetry of the room all over again.  But he didn’t get angry or sad, he just stayed surprised.  And he didn’t speak, so Blaine pressed the play button on the music player and began to sing.

Halfway through Kurt remembered to close the door, and his eyes were watery and bright.  For some reason, Blaine felt like that was a good thing this time, so he kept singing until the song was through.

Kurt finally spoke.  “You need more than love, Blaine,” he said.  “That song is ridiculous.  And I loved it.”

He smiled at Blaine, slowly and methodically stepped forward to wrap his arms around Blaine’s neck in a careful hug.  Blaine could finally relax enough to smile too, and he hugged Kurt back much tighter.  He couldn’t be sure yet, but he thought he maybe just made Kurt happy.

“I got you this,” he said when Kurt let go, pressing the homemade Valentine into his hand.  He watched as Kurt ran his fingers over _Be Mine, Valentine_ because yeah, it was still a little crooked.

Kurt looked up at him and said, “It’s perfect, Blaine, because it’s from you.  I—um,” he hurried away, digging into the drawer of his desk, and produced a small stuffed red-satin heart, pale blue lace trimming the edges.  _Happy Valentine’s Day, Mon Petit Ami_ was stitched in tiny, fancy letters across the front.  “I made it for you, but it isn’t perfect so I couldn’t give it to you, and now I have to give it to you because you gave something to me.  It, umm”—he blushed—“’Mon Petit Ami’ means ‘my little friend’, directly translated.  But it also means ‘my boyfriend.’  I wasn’t going to tell you that when I made it.”

Blaine took the little pillow and hugged it to his chest, grinning so big it hurt.  “Thank you,” he said.

They shared the cheesecake at Kurt’s desk and then sat on Blaine’s bed and _talked_ , which they almost never did before, not like this.  When their three hours were almost up Kurt said, coyly, “If this was a date then you should kiss me now,” and their lips met smiling and Blaine’s cup runneth over so much he thought his heart would burst.

He decided that _this_ was his very favorite day ever.


	6. Fall

_March 2011_ ~ Fall

It was _frustrating_ , being Kurt Hummel, so much so that often times Kurt wanted to scream.

All he wanted was what everyone else wanted, to be happy.  And no matter how far he got, no matter how perfect things seemed, he never could just _be_ happy for too long.  Because every time something fell into place—like Blaine liking him back, like them being _boyfriends_ now—he couldn’t help but mess it up.

Because they had only been a few hours old when the guilt had set in, and he had known exactly what he needed to do.  He needed to tell Mr. Francis that they were together now, because that was the right thing to do, because surely it was in the rules somewhere that roommates weren’t allowed to do things like be a couple or kiss or… or other things.  And maybe Blaine didn’t quite understand the ways that telling Mr. Francis could ruin things, but Kurt certainly did.

And he’d done it anyway.

They were still roommates, thank God; Kurt couldn’t stand it if Blaine was taken away from him and he was forced to adjust to yet another hopeless adolescent boy.  Luckily, Mr. Francis and Mrs. Faber and the others seemed to understand that, too.  Now they had bed checks each evening at ten, and they’d both had to sign a written agreement promising that their behavior would stay within the school’s guidelines, but he and Blaine were still there, in their room, together.  The adults seemed to trust that Kurt would never break the rules, that he would especially never violate a written agreement… and they were right.

But it was so _frustrating_.

Because there was the other rule now, the rule that said Kurt had to be a good boyfriend, the _best_ boyfriend, because that was what Blaine deserved.

Kurt’s list of What It Means to Be a Good Boyfriend (still a work-in-progress):

1)      Be respectful at all times

2)      Be available when he needs to talk

3)     Spend a reasonable amount of time together (note: define _reasonable_ )

4)     Take him out on dates

5)     Kissing, at appropriate times (note: define _appropriate times_ )

6)     Give him thoughtful gifts, such as on holidays and birthdays and approximately every three months, just because

7)     Cuddle while watching movies

8)     Don’t ogle other boys

9)     Don’t ogle his ass (in public)

10)  Show appropriate amounts of affection (i.e. hugging, hand-holding; note: define _appropriate amounts_ )

Kurt had a few other items he wanted to add, but he didn’t have five yet, and he liked his lists to be divisible by five.  He had tried to share his list with Blaine, but Blaine had crossed out number nine, and then Kurt had to reprint it.  So now Blaine didn’t have a list.

The problem with the rules on the list was that they conflicted with his other rules.  Like, what if Blaine needed to talk during study time?  Study time was absolutely an essential time of the day, a time for work and no-nonsense.  But what if Blaine _really_ needed to talk?

Kurt made a list of problems he had with following the rules.  In addition to conflicts with rule number two, there were conflicts with:

4) Take him out on dates – How was Kurt supposed to take Blaine out on a date?  Even if they could get permission to leave the school grounds, and even if Kurt did have his Navigator here, he didn’t have permission to drive with another student.  Only Blaine’s parents could give that permission, and Blaine’s parents made Kurt uneasy.

5) Kissing, at appropriate times – As it turned out, Blaine had a very different definition of “appropriate times” than Kurt did, even given that Kurt hadn’t quite worked out his own definition yet. 

He wished more than anything that things would somehow magically fall into place, but wishing had never gotten him very far in the past.  So naturally, he decided to tackle the list items one-by-one.  With Blaine, of course, because that was the right thing to do.  At precisely 2-pm on Sunday afternoon during _Relationship Problem-Solving time_ , because that was the right time to do it.  “Relationship Problem-Solving time” had replaced “flex time”, which was now replaced completely, and Mrs. Faber would just have to deal with that because Blaine was more important.

“Okay, Blaine,” he told his boyfriend.  They were sitting Indian-style on Kurt’s bed, facing each other.  Blaine looked very determined not to get bored, even though he was already fidgeting.  “There are four items up for discussion today, three of which are mine, and one of which is yours.” 

He’d tacked a sheet of paper up next to the marker-board titled _Relationship Problems for Discussion_ after last week’s discussion, which hadn’t been much of a discussion at all but had mostly been Kurt staring into space while Blaine fidgeted and tried to get Kurt to talk about things that were most decidedly _not_ on topic.  It had been a long hour.

“Item number one,” he read from the list, “is mine.  I wanted to discuss, umm.” Kurt looked away from the list and up at Blaine, who was staring rather fixedly at him and twiddling his thumbs.  For some reason, Blaine’s gaze made Kurt blush.  “I want to take you out on a date.  Like, a real one.  But I’m not sure how, since we’re not allowed to leave campus together.  Do you have any ideas?”

Blaine hummed thoughtfully.  “We could go to the cafeteria!”

“But we already go to the cafeteria, every day,” Kurt argued.  “That’s not really special.”

“We could have a picnic in the courtyard,” Blaine offered.  “I saw Brittany and Sam and some other people do that once.”

“That’s not a proper date,” Kurt said.  “I want to take you out, Blaine.  This will be our first real date.  I want to have flowers and a candlelight dinner and a movie that’s not on my laptop and a walk in the park and a kiss under the stars.”

“That’s a big list,” Blaine said.  He shrugged.  “I guess you better leave it up to me.”

“Blaine I don’t see how you can—“ He shut up, then, because Blaine leaned forward to peck him on the lips.  “Blaine!  You can’t just kiss me now!  It’s not time for kissing now!”

“But I wanted to kiss you now,” he said.  “And I’ve got this, Kurt.  Let me take you out.  Can’t you just trust me for once?”

Kurt sighed, but nodded.  He had to do that thing again where he tried not to smile because he was feeling exasperated, only Blaine was also making him really, really want to smile.  “That’s a great lead-in to number two, actually.  _Appropriate times for kissing_.  You can’t just kiss me anytime and anywhere, Blaine.  Some people don’t like it, and sometimes we have to do other things.”

“But I _like_ kissing you, Kurt,” Blaine all but whined.  “And I want to kiss you, like, _all the time_.  And other people do it too.”

“Not here they don’t,” Kurt said.  _Not people like us_ , he wanted to add, but sometimes he was grateful for the things Blaine didn’t understand.  “So, I was thinking about when we should kiss, and I think the following would be appropriate: a short kissbefore we leave for breakfast in the morning, a short kissbefore we go to bed at night, and longer kisses for approximately five minutes at the end of _Kurt and Blaine time_ each evening, because those are kind of like our only dates.”

Blaine frowned, with his mouth and with his eyes.  “Don’t you like kissing me, Kurt?”

Kurt felt his face go hot.  “Of course I do.  Of course I like it, Blaine.  Can’t you… can’t you tell?”  He liked it a little too much, actually, except when other people were watching, or he was supposed to be doing other things, or it went on for so long that he began to feel dangerously out of control.

“Yes,” Blaine said quietly, “okay.”

Kurt nodded, taking that for acceptance.  “Number three,” he began to read.  “Oh…”

Number three was _Can we kiss more, please?_ written in Blaine’s messy scrawl.

“Blaine,” Kurt said carefully.  “Are you really okay with the kissing times I came up with?  Because if you’re not, you can tell me.  That’s what this hour is for.”

Slowly, Blaine shook his head from side to side.

“Okay,” Kurt said.  “Okay, this is good.  This is when we get to compromise.  You have to tell me, though.  You have to tell me what you want.”

“I want to kiss you all the time, Kurt,” Blaine admitted, and Kurt remembered then that he had said exactly that only a few minutes before, only Kurt hadn’t really been listening well, then.

_Listening_.  That was kinda-sorta on the good boyfriend list.  Or if it wasn’t, it should be.  Especially with Blaine.  Because sometimes, Kurt was learning, you had to listen very, very carefully to understand what Blaine was really trying to say.

Tentatively, Kurt took Blaine’s hand.

“I can’t kiss you in public, Blaine,” he told him.  “It’s not because I don’t want to in public.  It’s because it’s not polite, in public, and it’s not really safe, either.  Kissing is private.”  He paused, took a breath.  “But I guess in here, when we’re alone, you can kiss me whenever you like.  So long as—if it gets too much, and I ask you to stop… you’ll stop, right?”

Blaine was beaming, and now he nodded enthusiastically.  “I can stop, Kurt.  I can make myself stop!”

“Great,” Kurt said, returning his smile.  Reluctantly, he turned back to his list.  “Number four is…”  He was relieved, because this time it was something simple.  “Blaine, look, you’ve got to stop using my skin cream for hand lotion.  I know it says _skin_ cream, which implies that it’s for skin, but it’s actually just for my face.”

“I can do that,” Blaine said.

“Okay,” Kurt said.  “Okay, I guess we’re done.  And it’s early again.  We still have thirty-seven minutes till exercise time, which is sixty-seven minutes till study time, which means, mmm—Blaine!”

“What?  What, Kurt?  I’m following the rules and we just talked about the rules and the rules say I can kiss you any time.  And I want to kiss you.”

“You want to kiss me all the time,” Kurt reminded him.  “This is not going to work during study time, I assure you.”

“But what if I want to kiss you during study time?  The rules say…”

“The rules say it’s _study time_ , Blaine.”

“But _Kurt_ …”

“But Blaine…” Kurt sighed.  “You’re smarter than anyone gives you credit for, do you know that?”

Blaine shrugged.  “If I want to be with you, I have to memorize the rules.  And the rules say—“

Kurt couldn’t take it anymore; he shut him up with a kiss.

This wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to be perfect, and things weren’t magically going to fall into place.  Kurt had known that going into it, and he knew it now, and he still hated it, but… Blaine was worth it.

And the kissing part wasn’t so bad, either.


	7. Grace

_April 2011_ ~ Grace

Blaine had always loved Easter, and so he really, really loved the idea of Easter break.  Except it meant three full days without Kurt, and that was three days too many.  It didn’t help that when they parted ways on Tuesday evening—just when it was supposed to be _Kurt and Blaine time_ —Kurt had not been doing well at all.  He had been talking way more than usual, too quickly for Blaine to understand, pacing about the room, trying to do too many things at once and when Blaine tried to stop him, Kurt had yelled at him and then started to cry. 

Kurt was really, really worried about Easter break, and probably not because of Carole or Finn, because Blaine had met them before and they were super nice.  Blaine didn’t really understand what Kurt was so worried about, but it made him sad to see Kurt like that all the same.  Blaine had tried to make him smile but it had only half-worked, and then Mama and Daddy had come to take him away.

But when Blaine had talked to Kurt on the phone (at 7 o’clock, during long-distance _Kurt and Blaine time_ , which Blaine was proud of because that had been _his_ idea), Kurt had promised him he was okay.  And besides that now it was Friday, which meant tomorrow was Saturday, and Saturday was going to be a really, really awesome day.

Because Cooper was going to drive Blaine all the way to Lima, and he was going to take Kurt _on a date_.  They were going to stop at florist to buy Kurt flowers (the kind that died this time, but Blaine hoped Kurt wouldn’t mind so much).  Blaine was going to pick up Kurt _at his house_ and they were going to go to Cooper’s friend’s house who had a _private_ _indoor theater_ , and then they were going to dinner and for a walk through Kurt’s neighborhood, because Kurt said Lima didn’t have a decent park.

Blaine really, really hoped it was good enough.  Perfect. 

All through dinner Friday night, he was giddy and jumpy.  Mama had to lecture him five times to stop bouncing his legs under the table because he was going to knock over the wine or the gravy.  Blaine was trying; he was just so excited, so excited he couldn’t even remember being this excited before.

When they got to Kurt’s house, Blaine forced himself to wait in the car until exactly 3 o’clock, because that’s when he was supposed to pick Kurt up.  When it was finally, _finally_ time he almost ran to ring the doorbell, and when Kurt answered the door he forgot all about being a gentleman and threw himself into Kurt’s arms, smushing Kurt’s flowers in the process.  Kurt was finally right here and he looked so amazing and Blaine hadn’t seen him in almost four whole days and he had _missed_ him.

When Kurt hugged him back, Blaine was certain it was the Best Hug Ever.  He was clingy, almost, which was usually the way Blaine was and not the way Kurt was at all, but Blaine decided he rather liked it.

It turned out that Cooper’s friend’s house was a really awesome house, and Kurt had to tug Blaine out of the car because he felt stuck there in his seat by the window, staring.  He knew it was Easter, but it was beginning to feel an awful lot like Christmas.  Cooper’s friend wasn’t home and he left them alone in the theater, and Kurt made them wait until exactly 3:30 to play the movie but that was okay because that left them seven whole minutes for kissing, and kissing was kinda-sorta-definitely Blaine’s favorite thing these days.

They watched the movie because that’s what you were supposed to do when a movie was playing, and it was probably pretty good, too, only Blaine didn’t really pay much attention because after that all he could think about was the kissing.

Blaine had been really looking forward to dinner because he had picked the place himself, someplace with reservations and a fancy name because that seemed like the kind of thing Kurt would like.  It was a bit out of their way—a thirty minute drive—but they were still early for their reservations, so they had to wait in the car again.  Kurt wouldn’t kiss him this time because Cooper was there, but he did let Blaine hold his hand which was almost as good.

They didn’t hold hands during dinner because _“we’re in public, Blaine”_ , but they did talk a lot and Kurt smiled and laughed a lot, and that made Blaine happy.  Plus, the food was really good, even if there wasn’t enough of it.

Blaine wanted their walk—around and around and around Kurt’s block—to last forever, but it really only lasted until just before 9 o’clock because Kurt was trying to keep up some of his regular schedule and had to get ready for bed.  All evening, Blaine had been looking forward to another kiss more than anything else, because since they weren’t together in their room Blaine had been getting a lot fewer kisses than he was used to too.  Kurt didn’t want to kiss him on the stoop, so Blaine had an absolutely brilliant idea and dragged him around to the backyard and kissed him in the shadows of his deck, moonlight streaming in through the slats in the roof and the sky still the faintest of pinks from the setting sun.

It was perfect, but then Blaine had to go, and there wasn’t anything perfect about that.  Until he had the Best Idea Ever.

“Kurt,” Blaine said, catching his arm as he made his way into the house.  “Kurt, you should come home with me!  You could have Easter with us, Kurt!  Easter is so much fun.  You could go to Church with us and have brunch with us and hunt eggs with us and—“

“I can’t go to Easter with you, Blaine,” Kurt said.

“I know it’s not on your schedule,” Blaine reasoned, “but I could make you an Easter-day schedule!  I’m real good at making schedules now.”

“I can’t go to Easter with you, Blaine,” Kurt repeated.  Blaine wanted to kick himself because Kurt looked sad again, but if Kurt wouldn’t come to Easter then Blaine would be sad, too.

“Why not?” he asked.  “Why not, Kurt, if I make a schedule and it would be fun…”

Kurt sighed and looked at his watch, which Blaine knew probably meant he was late.  But Blaine hadn’t seen him for four days and he wouldn’t see him for another two, and there was no good reason, none at all, why Kurt couldn’t come to Easter.

“I have to spend Easter with Carole and Finn, Blaine.  They’re my family.”

“Well I’m your _boyfriend_ ,” Blaine pointed out.  “And they could come too.  Mama likes having people over.”

“Not me,” Kurt mumbled, and looked Blaine in the eyes with a look Blaine didn’t like.  “Blaine I don’t do Church.  And I can’t—you can’t expect me to go along with things this fast.  Even if I could, we can’t ask my family or your family to change their plans at the last minute.  That isn’t fair.”

“It isn’t fair that I don’t get to see you,” Blaine whined.

Kurt’s eyes twitched back to his watch, and Blaine was just about to open his mouth and say something about that, too, when Kurt looked at him again and his face was softer.  “Come here,” he said, and wrapped Blaine in his arms.  “Blaine, I miss you too.  Sometimes life sucks.  Nothing’s ever perfect.”

“Even though you want it to be,” Blaine said for him, relaxing into the embrace.

“Even though I want it to be,” Kurt echoed.  “I have to go.”

“I know,” Blaine said, and tried not to sniffle except maybe one of them came out. 

Kurt pulled away, and Blaine let him this time—until a thought crossed his mind and he snatched up Kurt’s wrist again, just in time.  “Blaine—“

“I think _you’re_ perfect,” Blaine told him, looking into his eyes which were usually blue but right now they were more green, and Blaine wasn’t sure how that happened.  “To me, anyway.  You’re perfect to me.”  Blaine tugged him closer, kissed him, then spun away and was gone before it could hit him again that he didn’t want to be.

***

Blaine was mopey in the car, and he was mopey the next morning—until he got to eat some of Mama’s pancakes, which really, really helped, and then Cooper helped him dress extra fancy and they went to Church.  Blaine _loved_ Church, because it was big and it was pretty and the people there were mostly always nice to him, and they all smiled at him when he sang.

At Easter lunch while Cooper said grace, Blaine said an extra prayer in his thoughts for Kurt.  Mama always told him God could even hear his heart, and sometimes Blaine thought that Kurt maybe really needed God, too.


	8. Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPECIAL WARNING THIS CHAPTER for a brief incident of non-con. It's pretty mild (consider where they are in their relationship), but it's there nevertheless. Please use caution.
> 
> Also, the mental illness symptoms get a bit more intense...

_May 2011_ ~ Harmony

Everything was going so well, their lives together in near perfect harmony, and then…

It started in the morning, to the best of Kurt’s knowledge.  He woke up to the blare of his alarm, and there was Blaine sitting Indian-style in only his boxers on his bed, CDs spread out haphazardly across the entire expanse of it.

“Blaine?” Kurt said groggily, sitting up.  “Blaine, what’s going on?”

“Kurt!” Blaine declared, a huge smile blossoming on his face.  “Kurt, you’re awake!  You’re finally finally finally awake!”  He switched into song.  “Good morning, good morning, the little birdy said!  Good morning, good morning, it’s time to get out of bed!”

Kurt groaned, fighting the urge to slap his hands over his ears, because Blaine’s voice was _loud_.  “Are those my CDs?” he asked.

Blaine nodded.  “I was looking for your Broadway love songs CD.  I was going to sing you a love song, Kurt, but you’re awake!”

Kurt’s heart began to pound, his palms began to sweat, and he forced his hands into fists, nails biting into his flesh.  “You need to clean them up.  You need to put them back in order.  They were in alphabetical order, Blaine, and I can’t put them back right now; I have to take a shower.  Why are you even up?”

Blaine’s smile never faltered; he shrugged.  “Can’t sleep.  No time to sleep.  I’m gonna write a Broadway play!”

“You are,” Kurt said in deadpan.  “You’re not supposed to be up yet.  I’m going to the bathroom now.  Please have this cleaned up before I get back.  And I’d appreciate it if you put on some clothes.”

“Sure,” Blaine said, and winked at him.

When Kurt was finished in the bathroom, Blaine still hadn’t cleaned up the CDs.  What’s worse, he was _playing_ one now, dancing around the room still in his underwear.  Kurt ran to his computer— _his_ computer—where the music was coming from, and switched it off. 

“Hey!” Blaine said.  “I was listening to—“

“It’s your bathroom time, Blaine,” Kurt said as firmly as he could manage, holding a hand in front of his eyes while he addressed him.  It’s not that Blaine wasn’t attractive, _of course_ he was attractive, and Kurt wanted to look but he wasn’t ready to look, especially now because Blaine’s behavior was so, so not okay.  “We have classes today, and you’re throwing me off schedule because now I have to clean up the mess you made!”

“Well, _soooorrr-ry_ , Kurt.  I was only having fun.  I was practicing my dance for my musical; it’s gonna—“

“Bathroom time, Blaine,” Kurt repeated.

Blaine all but skipped over to him.  “Fine,” he said, and dipped in to give Kurt a kiss, sloppy and off-center and with way too much unexpected tongue.  Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste, body tense.  He didn’t relax until Blaine disappeared through the bathroom door.  He didn’t relax even _after_ Blaine disappeared through the bathroom door.

Kurt was five minutes late going down to breakfast, because it took him that long to clean up all the CDs Blaine had left everywhere plus Blaine’s clothes which were strewn to the side of his bed, and leaving them until later wasn’t an option.  Blaine didn’t reappear in that time, and Kurt didn’t bother to wait for him.

He hoped that whatever was going on with Blaine, he would be well and over it by study time.

He wasn’t.

Kurt knew before he even entered their room at precisely 3 o’clock that Blaine wasn’t over it, because the music blaring through their door was so loud that other students in their hall were giving him odd looks before he even got there.

And sure enough, there was Blaine—dressed at least this time, but barely.  Dressed in _Kurt’s_ clothes, his curls loose and wild.  Sprawled on _Kurt’s_ bed with the blankets askew.  He was on his own laptop this time, thankfully, because Kurt had taken his to class.

“Kurt!” he exclaimed gleefully, and jumped to his feet to give Kurt a kiss.  Kurt turned his face away, and Blaine caught his cheek.

“Did you even go to class today?” he asked.

Blaine nodded.  “I went to first class, but I was late and then Mrs. Applewood said I was too loud and talking too much and walking around too much and everything was just too much, Kurt, because there’s so much in me right now.”

Kurt stared at him, uncertain what to make of all that.  “So what happened?” he finally asked.

“She told me to go to the dean’s office, but I didn’t feel like it so I came back here because I needed to work on my musical.  I’m gonna write a Broadway musical, Kurt, and you can be the star and it will be awesome and everyone will clap and they will love you and they will love me.  You know what I’m gonna write about?”

All Kurt could do was shake his head, but Blaine was rambling again before he’d even started.

“Eggs, Kurt!  I’m gonna write a musical about egg!  There’s never been a musical about eggs before, and everyone loves eggs.  I love eggs!  Don’t you love eggs?  And the eggs can’t dance so they will spin, and I’m going through your music to find a song about eggs so I can write one.”

“What is wrong with you, Blaine?” Kurt said, feeling tired and sad and completely overwhelmed.  Blaine was always Blaine but he’d never been like this before, and in twenty-five minutes it would be study time and he would have to clean Blaine’s mess up again and then Blaine would probably make a new one, and he wasn’t quiet and compliant like Blaine usually was, and so how was Kurt supposed to study?  “It’s almost study time—“

“Oh, I don’t need to study!  No studying, no studying, gonna write a famous Broadway musical and you will be the star!”

“I think I’m going to go get Mr. Francis,” Kurt said, his stomach rolling at the thought.  He didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to get his boyfriend in trouble, but that was the right thing to do.  Wasn’t it?

“You can’t,” Blaine said, backing him up until his back hit the door.  Blaine shook his head, grinning.  “You can’t get Mr. Francis, because I need you here, because I need you to be my star!  You wanna be my star, Kurt?  My star egg.”  He laughed.  “You should practice,” he said, and kissed Kurt.

“Stop,” Kurt said, trying to move away.  But Blaine’s mouth was insistent, his hands finding Kurt’s hips, smoothing up and across his stomach as Blaine’s lips trailed sloppy kisses over to his cheek and down to his jaw, his neck.  “Please, Blaine!  You said you’d always stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” Blaine said.  “Feels good.  Don’t you like it?”  His hips shifted forward, and Kurt could feel him there, hard against his hip.  It wasn’t the first time that had happened, but it was the first time it happened with intention, and Kurt didn’t like it.  He didn’t like it at all. 

Where was Blaine, his Blaine, the Blaine who would never, ever hurt him?

“Stop it, Blaine,” he said a bit more firmly.  But Blaine wasn’t stopping, so Kurt did what he had to do.  He took ahold of Blaine’s biceps and shoved him away, hard, whimpering when Blaine hit the floor.  He grappled for the doorknob and fled from the room, straight to Mr. Francis’s suite.

*******

Kurt was so, so afraid of what would happen to Blaine, and what did happen to Blaine was that they took him away.  Not far away, but to his own room, where he could get “a little extra help”.  Kurt didn’t see him for five days, but when he came back, he was Blaine again.

In the meantime, Mr. Francis, Mrs. Faber and Ms. Genna sat down with him to talk.  “You’re a smart guy, Kurt,” Mrs. Faber said.  “I can’t tell you what Blaine has; you know we can’t disclose those things here due to confidentiality policies.  But do a little research and you’ll figure it out.  We want to assure you that with a little help, Blaine should be back to normal soon.  But we know it might have been difficult for you to see him like that, so if you no longer feel comfortable rooming with him, we can move you.”

“He’ll be back to normal?” Kurt asked, just to be sure.  He felt so lost without Blaine, so shaken up that nothing felt good anymore, nothing felt right.  And he couldn’t even cry.  Kurt hadn’t cried since it happened, and he certainly wasn’t going to cry in front of these people.

“Yes,” Ms. Genna confirmed.  “Back to the Blaine you know.”

“I don’t want to change rooms,” Kurt told them. 

After that it was just waiting, waiting for Blaine to return.

A few days later, he got back from class and Blaine was there, sitting quietly on his own bed, dressed in a polo and a bowtie, his hair slicked back.  He turned when Kurt walked in, said Kurt’s name with so much need and affection that it was all Kurt could do not to run to him right then and there.  But he couldn’t just do that, not after what happened.

“Are you back?” he asked quietly instead.  “Is it over?”

Kurt had done his research, of course.  He understood.

Blaine nodded, his eyes full of tears.  “I remember.  I’m sorry, Kurt.  I’m sorry.  Do you still love me?”

Kurt felt his heart melting into a puddle at his feet.  “Oh, Blaine,” he said, and went and sat next to him, tentatively pulling him into a hug.  Blaine wrapped his arms around him, strong and familiar and safe.  “It’s okay,” Kurt whispered, not sure if he was speaking to himself or to Blaine.  “You’re back now; it’s okay.”

“I missed you,” Blaine said.  “I’m sorry, Kurt.  I was bad.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt said.  Then more softly, “I missed you too.”  Kurt fitted his face into the crook of Blaine’s neck, breathing him in.  “Can we lay down?  Could you… could you just hold me?  We have twenty-seven minutes until study time.”

They stretched out on the bed, curled up together, and for the first time in six days or maybe longer, Kurt let himself relax. 

They were a mess, together and apart.  They weren’t either of them perfect.  But they were beautiful, in their own way, and they would find their harmony again.


	9. Imprint

_June 2011_ ~ Imprint

Blaine didn’t know how to feel.  He loved summer, and he loved summer break—especially before when he went to public school because that place really, really sucked—but this year summer break meant two months away from Kurt, and the thought of that was almost unbearable.

Kurt wasn’t even going home, not really.  He was going home for a week and then coming back because students here could stay all summer and take special classes, and Kurt wanted really, really badly to get into college.  He also probably didn’t want to disrupt his schedule because schedules were practically Kurt’s whole life, and that made Blaine sad because he was part of the schedule now and he was leaving, and Kurt was sad before when he left.  The only thing Blaine hated more than Kurt being sad was making Kurt sad.

He didn’t know how to leave Kurt.  Leaving Kurt made Blaine’s heart hurt too, only Mama would be really sad if he didn’t come home and Blaine wasn’t going to college (thank God!), so he really kind of had to.

It was the very last day and Mama and Daddy were here to take him home.  Kurt was having study time and trying really, really hard not to get annoyed by the noise they made, even though Blaine could tell that he actually was.  Study time was even more important now after what happened last month.  Every part of the schedule seemed lots more important, and it made Blaine feel bad but all he could do was try his hardest to be good for Kurt.

He lingered by his bed, watching Kurt hunched over at his desk.  “Blaine dear,” Mama called, appearing in the doorway.  “Everything’s loaded up now, sweetheart; we’re ready to go.”

“It’s study time,” Blaine said.  “Don’t make me bother him, Mama, he’s…”

Mama gave Kurt a look Blaine didn’t like, one where she looked at him sideways without turning her face.

From the desk, Kurt sighed.  “It’s alright, Blaine,” he said, glancing at Mama nervously.

Blaine knew what he wanted without even having to ask.  “Mama,” Blaine said.  “We need to be alone now.”

“Oh,” she said.  “ _Oh_ ,” and disappeared.

Blaine went to Kurt and sat on his lap—which felt a little weird—and wrapped his arms around his neck, nuzzling his face there like he used to with Mama.  Blaine would never tell her, but Kurt smelled better.  He even felt better, too.  “I wish you weren’t so sad,” Blaine told him.

Kurt didn’t bother to deny it.  He pretty much always told the truth.  “I’m sad a lot,” he admitted.  “Especially now.  I’m going to miss you, Blaine.  It won’t be the same here without you.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” Blaine said.  “You should go home too, Kurt.  It’s good to be home.”

Kurt breathed in, shaky.  “Home’s not the same, either,” he said.  “Home is here, now.  When you’re here.”

Then Blaine got an idea.  “You should come to my home!  You should come to my home, Kurt, and then we could be together, and it could be like your home too!  And then we wouldn’t have to wait two whole months to see each other.”

Kurt half-smiled.  “I don’t think that would work quite like you think it would, Blaine.  I don’t think your parents like me very much.  And I need to be here.”

“You could come for a visit!” Blaine suggested.  “I don’t want to not see you, Kurt.  And I don’t want you to be sad.”

“You make me less sad,” Kurt said, lifting his soft fingers to trail them over Blaine’s cheekbones.  Blaine let his eyes flutter shut.

“Mama will like you if she gets to know you, Kurt.  I promise she will.”

“It would make me happy to see you,” Kurt admitted softly.

Blaine beamed.  “It would make me happy, too.”

Kurt seemed to think about things for a minute.  “Alright, Blaine,” he finally said.  “If she says yes—I’ll try.”

“Yay!”  Excitement bubbled in Blaine’s chest.  “Yay, yes, you’ll come!?!”

Kurt nodded, letting his forehead fall against Blaine’s.  Blaine kissed him then, just because, because he wasn’t sure but he thought maybe study time rules didn’t apply at the moment.  “I need to study,” Kurt said when their mouths stopped touching.  “You need to go with your parents.”

Reluctantly, Blaine nodded.  “You’ll try not to be sad?  You shouldn’t be sad, Kurt, because even while I’m gone I’ll still love you.  And I’ll call you every day during _Kurt and Blaine time_ , I promise.”

“Okay,” Kurt whispered, but he didn’t look any happier, and that was making Blaine even sadder.  “I’ve got something for you.”  Kurt pulled a tiny rock out of the drawer of his desk, which he handed to Blaine.  Only on closer examination, Blaine saw that it wasn’t really a rock at all—it was too white, and when he held it in his hand it felt funny.  His finger slid into a dip.  “It’s silly, but—that’s an imprint of my thumb.  I made it when I was a kid; it’s supposed to be for worrying.  I know you don’t worry as much as I do, but… it used to be my dad’s, but now I want you to have it.”

“Your dad doesn’t need it anymore?” Blaine asked.

Kurt smiled in that not-smile way of his again.  “No,” he said.  “Not anymore.”

Blaine suddenly had the Best Thought Ever and jumped up from Kurt’s lap, hurrying over to his suitcase.  “You can keep Rex,” he said, pulling the stuffed dog out from where he’d tucked him into a pocket.  “Rex always makes me feel better when I’m sad!”

Kurt took the little dog and hugged it to his chest.  “Are you sure you won’t miss him?”

Blaine shook his head, even though he wasn’t sure at all.  “Not as much as I’m gonna miss you.”

Kurt stood then and pulled Blaine back into his arms and kissed him—longer than usual, just the kind of kiss Blaine liked best.  “Thank you,” he said, smiling, _really_ smiling.  “You need to go; your mom is waiting.  I need to study.”

Blaine didn’t _want_ to go, even if it was summer, even if Mama and Daddy were waiting.  He wanted to stay with Kurt.  He wanted to always stay with Kurt.

But he was a good boy, a good man, almost.  He felt more like a man now that he had Kurt.  “I love you,” he told Kurt one more time, staying close to him for as long as he could.

When he finally pulled back, Kurt’s eyes were glittering and he was blinking too much, but he looked as pretty as Blaine had ever seen him.  “I know.”


	10. Jukebox

_July 2011 (Pam)_ ~ Jukebox

Their home was filled with so many things that were put there just for Blaine—the baby grand piano he had struggled to learn to play.  The old jukebox, loaded with classics from the fifties and sixties.  The “play corner” they put together for him when he was little, which he’d made use of for far longer than most children would.  It hadn’t held his interest for a few years now, but they hadn’t taken it down.

If she had her way, they never would.

Pamela had known her son would be special from the moment she learned of his existence.  Henry had been content with only Cooper, and she’d had to be crafty to conceive again.  When it finally happened, she was thirty-eight and their son was eleven; her husband was angry, but she wouldn’t hear a word against her child.  Blaine had been her treasure, her precious miracle, from the very start.

The fact that he’d been born a little more _special_ than she’d anticipated hadn’t changed that.  In fact, a part of her rejoiced in the knowledge that this boy would surely never leave her, never grow up.

It had been Henry who pushed for the school, and Pam had gone along with it because truthfully, he’d been right.  Blaine had come as far as he could with home schooling, and the public school proved to have very little to offer him—ridicule and brutality, the pain of flying fists after he’d innocently asked another boy to a dance.  There was no way she was keeping him there, not after that.  And Dalton—Dalton offered a better academic curriculum, instructors with experience, and an enforced no-bullying policy.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want her son to accomplish as much as he possibly could, to have every opportunity for success and happiness.  She just wanted him to stay with her while he did it.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t the school that was going to take him away from her, not directly.  It was Kurt.  And Kurt… Kurt couldn’t handle Blaine.  He was too uptight, too strict, too controlled, while Blaine was charming, yes, but entirely unpredictable.  How could a boy like that possibly love her son, offer him anything he needed?  Pam could live with Blaine finding another love, so long as he was happy.  So long as he was always happy, and happiness couldn’t last with Kurt.  Kurt would drain his energy, take over his life.  She couldn’t let that happen.

And she also couldn’t look Blaine in the eye and tell him no, because Kurt was sitting in their living room, her son beside him on the couch, clutching Kurt’s hand tightly and resting his head on Kurt’s shoulder, nary an inch of space between them.

She placed the tray of lemonade in front of them on the coffee table.  Neither boy made a move to reach for it—or to acknowledge her presence.

She sat in the chair across from them, smoothing her skirt as she asked, “So Kurt, tell us: how has your summer been so far?”

Kurt turned to consider her, and she could read the discomfort in his eyes.  “It’s been fine, thank you, ma’am, though I’ve missed Blaine quite a bit.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Blaine said, before she could reply. 

“Lovely,” she said.  “And what have you been doing?”

“Studying,” Kurt said, shrugging.

“Kurt’s going to college next year!” Blaine offered proudly.

Pam lifted her brows.  “Oh, is he?  How nice for you, dear.  And where will you be going?”  Dalton was good, but it wasn’t _that_ good.  Less than half of their students continued their education.

“I’m not sure yet,” Kurt answered.

“Do you know what you’d like to study?”

“Fashion, maybe.”  Kurt blushed.  “Though I might stick with something more practical, like accounting. I haven’t decided.”

“Fashion,” Pam repeated.  “Interesting...  Please, have some lemonade.”

Kurt smiled stiffly and reached for a glass, taking a small sip.  “Delicious.”

Blaine frowned at him.  “You hate lemons,” he said, but Kurt didn’t acknowledge the comment, his knuckles white where he gripped Blaine’s hand. 

Pamela stared at them.  “Blaine,” she finally said.  “Why don’t you show Kurt your special corner, hmm?  Or play him something on the piano.”

Blaine looked at her—a peculiar, unknowable expression—and for the first time since he was born, he felt to her a stranger.  “I’m taking Kurt to see my room,” he said suddenly, standing, tugging Kurt up with him.

“Blaine—” Kurt said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Blaine,” she said.  “I’m not sure if that’s approp—“

“We share a room at school, Mom,” he told her pointedly, eyes a little narrowed before he turned away, dragging Kurt towards the stairs.

_Mom_.  The term stung, making her heart pound faster, blood rushing from her head in a wave of panic.

She wasn’t going to lose him.  He was already lost.

***

Kurt stayed in their home for almost three days, and although he eventually became more at ease around Henry and even Cooper when he came for Saturday lunch, he remained stiff and awkward with her.  Her distaste for the boy grew every day.  All weekend, the two of them mostly stayed shut up in Blaine’s room doing God-only-knew what.  Kurt rarely smiled, and only ever shared a real smile with Blaine.  Pam didn’t trust a person who didn’t smile.

He didn’t eat right, taking only small portions of everything that wasn’t vegetables.  When they went out for dinner Friday night, he blatantly ordered the cheapest non-fried thing on the menu.  He didn’t sleep in like a teenage boy should, didn’t stay up late, either, and one time when she “accidently” went into Blaine’s room, she found the two of them _studying_. 

What kind of teenager _studied_ on the weekend, during summer break?

The final straw came on Sunday night.  Blaine was playing the jukebox during dinner as was his habit when Elvis’s _Love Me Tender_ came on, and suddenly Kurt was blinking back tears.  He excused himself and practically ran from the dining room, Blaine hurrying after him seconds later.

Pam rolled her eyes.  “Oh for Heaven’s sake,” she declared to her husband.  “I hope Blaine finishes with that boy soon.  He’s unstable.”

To her annoyance, her husband only considered her with disapproval.  “And Blaine isn’t?” he said.  “I rather like the boy.  He balances Blaine nicely, I think, and he’s smart.”

“ _Smart_ ,” Pam said.  “He’s got problems, Henry.  Maybe not the same problems, but… there’s no way he can handle someone like Blaine.  He’s going to destroy him.”

“He’s handled him pretty well so far.  Blaine adores him, and Kurt seems to care for Blaine deeply.”

She scoffed.  “He has a funny way of showing it.”

“Yes,” her husband said, a hint of irritation in his voice, “he does.  But that doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t there.  Maybe you should try being a little kinder, Pammy.  The boy seems terrified of you.”

“I’ve been nothing but polite,” she contended. 

“Exactly,” her husband said.  “ _Nothing_ but polite.”  His voice softened.  “Pam, I think you should talk to him.  Get to know him.  I have a feeling they’re in it for the long haul.”

“Nonsense.  They’re only children!”

“They’re nearly adults.  Special adults, yes, but that’s all the more reason we should give them our support.”

Pam stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded.  How could Henry not see what she saw, that they were headed down a path destined only for disaster?  She wasn’t being cruel; Kurt stood to be hurt by this just as much as Blaine did.  If the boy even _had_ feelings. 

“You know what?  I think I will talk to him,” Pam said.  Maybe she could help him see the mistake he was making, getting involved with Blaine—that Blaine needed and deserved more than he could offer.

“Be nice,” her husband warned.

She ignored him, placing her folded napkin on the table and following after the boys.

She found them in the living room, Kurt hunched over and mostly composed now, breathing deeply.  Blaine had his arms wrapped around him, making little shushing noises and dropping dotted kisses across the side of his face.

Frowning, she approached them.  “Kurt, I’d like to speak with you.”

“But—“ Blaine began.

She gave him The Look, but it didn’t seem to work this time, as he only shook his head at her and turned his attention back to Kurt.

“It will only be a minute,” she pressed.

“I don’t think—“

“Blaine, it’s fine,” Kurt told him, looking up.  He placed a hand on Blaine’s knee, squeezed it.  “Thank you, but I’m okay now.  It will be fine.”  He half-smiled, but Pam could tell it was forced.  Blaine looked suspicious as well, but he nodded, stood up and left, shooting her one last discouraging look.

When he was gone, Pam sighed and sat down.  “Kurt,” she began.  “I don’t know exactly how to say this, but I feel I should be honest with you…”

Kurt sat back, giving her his attention.  “Go on, then.  Honesty is always best.”

“Right,” Pam said, feeling a smidgen uncomfortable.  She crossed her legs.  “I know about you.  What you have.  And surely by now you know what Blaine has, so you must know that the two of you—it just can’t work, sweetheart.  You’re too different.  It’s nothing personal.”

Kurt gave a wry little chuckle.  “When I first met Blaine, I would have told you the same thing.  I didn’t even think we’d last as roommates, until he proved me otherwise.  Do you know how many boys came and went before he showed up?”

“Be that as it may—” Pam continued.  “Look, you’re a smart boy, Kurt.  I know that.  But I know what your condition means, too.  Everything is sacrificed to create a perfect world, most especially relationships.  And Blaine’s a very special boy: he’s gullible, easily controlled.  If you don’t break his heart, you’re bound to break his spirit.”

She waited while Kurt watched her, seeming to take her apart with his eyes.  It was rather remarkable, the transformation from the awkward, polite boy she’d seen until now to… to _this_. 

“I’m not going to bother to defend myself,” he said finally, “because you’re exactly right.  I’ve spent the past two years being drilled on my diagnosis and what it means, I _live_ it every day, and as much as I like the way I live, therapy has given me enough insight to know that most other people won’t.  I love my rules, Mrs. Anderson.  I love my rules and my routines and yes, it all buckles down to control, and that isn’t going to change, and you don’t get to judge me for it.”

Taken aback, she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“I’m not finished yet,” Kurt said.  “You’re not the only one to do research, or who has the brains to pay attention.  I know everything there is to know about Blaine’s condition, probably nearly as much as you.  I’ve experienced it.  And you’re right: he is very special, but for none of the reasons you’re thinking.  Blaine is good and kind and loving, and yes, innocent, and I’m sure I have you to thank for all of that.  And I don’t know why or how, but he thrives with a little structure; I’ve seen it.  And maybe I’m not the best person for him, you’ll get no argument there, but I have no intention of hurting him.  I—I cherish him.  I don’t want to change a thing about him, because he _is_ perfection to me, in its purest form.”

Pam felt herself begin to tremble, watching his confidence, the passion this rigid boy had for her son.  “I don’t understand it,” she finally admitted, voice hushed.  “I don’t understand why he feels what he feels for you.  I want him to be happy, and you’re—you’re you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Kurt returned.  “I’m more than my diagnosis, Mrs. Anderson.  Just the same as Blaine.  I’m a _person_.”

Ashamed, she could only nod.

“Do you know why I ran out of that room?” he asked.  She watched him, waited, didn’t answer.  He looked down at his hands.  “I have one memory of my mother.  Of my father, singing her that song.  I was only two when she died.  He went crazy, became a little overbearing.  But he loved me.”  He sighed, glancing up at her and back down again.  “It wasn’t this bad, before.  My symptoms.  When I was fifteen, he, umm… he had a heart attack, never woke up.  I became this.  My stepmother and stepbrother are wonderful people, but they couldn’t handle me.”  He shrugged.  “So now I’m at Dalton.”

She stared at him, blinking back tears.  “Why would you tell me that?”

“I haven’t even told Blaine,” Kurt said.  “Because I don’t have to tell him any of the _how_ for him to get me.  He just—he just does.  Somehow, by some miracle, he understands; he’s _okay_ with me, with the way I am.”  He finally, pointedly met her eyes.  “You clearly needed more.”

“How… how do I know you won’t change your mind?” she couldn’t help but ask, feeling raw and exposed right along with him.  “Blaine is so much to handle, Kurt.  And you’re—“

“I can’t promise I’ll never hurt him, or freak out, or mess up.  But…I have rules,” Kurt said, “but they can change.  They changed.”  His eyes fell to a picture of Blaine that was sitting on the end table, around age five, as handsome and smiling and innocent as he was today.  “Rule number one is to make him happy.”

Maybe Blaine wasn’t lost, after all.  As it turned out… he’d been found.


	11. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the "M" rating, FYI.

_August 2011_ ~ Legacy

It was the last weekend of break and Kurt was here again for like the fourth time this summer, in Blaine’s house in his room, actually _liking_ Blaine’s family who liked him back, and things were pretty much perfect. 

But best of all was why Kurt was here—not just because it really, really sucked when they didn’t see each other, but also because _it was Blaine’s birthday!_   His _eighteenth_ birthday, which meant not only cake and ice cream and presents and singing and Kurt which were pretty much all of Blaine’s very favorite things, but also that he was a man now.  And Mama and Daddy knew he was a man now, too, they even said so when they gave Blaine a pocket watch that had belonged to his grandfather, calling it a _legacy_ even though Blaine actually didn’t know what a legacy was.  He didn’t really care, though.  Daddy had said, _“A man needs a pocket watch,”_ and Blaine had beamed so hard it made his face hurt.

He was g _rown-up_.  He’d been waiting his entire life to be grown-up, practically.

But now the cake was eaten and the song had been sung and he’d opened all of his gifts and he was happy, so happy and full, and he was going up to his room with Kurt for _Kurt and Blaine time_ because that’s what time it was now.  And he was really kind of hoping that they could watch _Hairspray_ since Blaine had just gotten his very own copy, and _Hairspray_ was pretty much his favorite musical.

He didn’t get to ask about that though, because as soon as his door swung shut Kurt was kissing him, and kissing was even better.  And even better than that was that Kurt didn’t stop this time, they just kept going and going until Blaine was groaning, pressing into it, and somehow they were moving and somehow they were suddenly on the bed, Kurt underneath him and Blaine was really, really liking this.

Kurt’s lips and Kurt’s jaw and Kurt’s hair and Kurt’s ear and Kurt’s _neck_ —Kurt’s neck was probably Blaine’s very favorite part of him other than his eyes—and every part tasted so good and Kurt wasn’t telling him _stop_ like he usually did, which was awesome because Blaine didn’t want to stop, not ever.  And Kurt was just lying there, making the prettiest, silliest noises that made Blaine feel heavy and achy in his pants.

He sucked down lower, following the bone that led to Kurt’s shoulder until his shirt got in the way.  Blaine nosed at it, whining in frustration.

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt said, his voice sounding odd and high.  “Blaine, honey… you can take it off.  If you want?”

Blaine had pulled back to listen to Kurt just like he was supposed to, but now he felt his eyes go big because he had never, never been allowed to do _that_ before.  _Take off Kurt’s shirt_.  He’d thought about it sometimes if he was honest, but he didn’t think that was something Kurt would ever let happen, because Kurt really, really liked his clothes.

He nodded his agreement.  _Best birthday ever_.

His fingers moved to work on Kurt’s buttons, but they were small and his hands weren’t working right now—sometimes they wouldn’t even work right on his own clothes, which Blaine hated, which was why Mama started buying the buttons a little big—and he groaned in frustration.

“Hey,” Kurt said, touching his face.  “Hey, it’s okay, Blaine.  I’ll do it.”

And that _was_ okay, maybe, because Blaine got to _watch_.  It turned out Kurt had more than just that shirt on anyway, but eventually his tops were all gone and Kurt was just there, lying there and his chest was as white as his neck or maybe even whiter and his skin looked so soft and he had these pale, pale pink nipples that were just a little bit bigger than Blaine’s and yeah, he was beautiful.  It was kind of a lot, and Blaine couldn’t do anything but stare.

“Blaine?” Kurt said, and Blaine’s eyes switched automatically to his face.  Kurt’s cheeks were red in that way they got sometimes that Blaine always liked.  “You can, umm… touch me, or kiss me some more, or… is this okay?”

Words were too hard right now, but Blaine nodded, taking Kurt’s hand because he needed Kurt and because Kurt sounded almost scared and he didn’t want Kurt to feel scared, not ever. 

Kurt squeezed his hand and then brought it to his chest, placing it over his (naked) heart, and Blaine’s own heart sped even faster.  Slowly, he trailed his fingers across Kurt’s skin, following every little crevice, down to his stomach which moved with Kurt’s breaths, getting braver, dipping into Kurt’s belly button, playing with his nipples.

Kurt’s eyes fluttered closed.  “Blaine,” he said.  “Please kiss me.”

So Blaine did.  They kissed and kissed and kissed while Kurt’s smooth, perfect skin stayed there under his hands, and it got so good it was almost painful, and Blaine didn’t know what to do about that, his hips twitching down and down without him telling them to.

Kurt pulled back, his breath coming in fast puffs against Blaine’s face.  “You too, Blaine,” he said.  “Can I—” Blaine felt hands on his waist, tugging at his shirt where it tucked into his pants, and he nodded, wriggling to help Kurt get it off.  _“Blaine,”_ Kurt said then, running his hands over Blaine’s bare shoulders, down his back and around to Blaine’s chest.

His hands felt good, _so_ good, and Blaine gasped with it.  He hoped it had felt this good for Kurt, too.  He stayed there, hovering above Kurt’s body with his hands braced on either side of Kurt’s head, letting Kurt touch him, moaning with it. 

Then Kurt did something even better—he reached down, over Blaine’s pants, and traced the shape of him where Blaine was so hard, throbbing.  Blaine whined, squirmed until Kurt’s hand was right over him and it felt _so good_.

“Do you know about this?” Kurt asked.  “Do you… have you…?”

Blaine wasn’t quite sure what Kurt was asking, but he nodded.  “Cooper told me about… he told me to touch.  And when I do, and it feels good, and then stuff comes out.”

Kurt nodded.  “It’ll feel even better if I do it.  Touch you,” he said.  “Do you want that, Blaine?”

Blaine beamed and nodded, nodded so hard it hurt his head. 

Kurt’s fingers traced the zip of his pants, the button.  “Can I?”

“Yeah.  Yes, Kurt, _please_.”

He tried to help as Kurt worked down his pants, then his underwear, and Blaine fell down beside him on the bed, reaching to touch himself on instinct, only Kurt beat him to it.  Kurt’s hand wrapped around him, moving; Kurt whispered in his ear and kissed him and it was the Best Thing Ever until it got even better, better than it had ever felt before and he was crying, probably, but Kurt didn’t seem to mind.  Kurt stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead and he clung to Kurt until he felt okay again.

Until he realized that Kurt was a boy too, which was kind of the point and probably why he could feel something— _Kurt_ —pressed against his hip.  _Kurt_.

_“Kurt,”_ he said, and Kurt kissed him again.  “Kurt let me… wanna touch you, too.  Please Kurt.”

Kurt stared at him with those beautiful eyes of his for so long that Blaine almost forgot he had asked him something, but eventually he nodded, and then Blaine got to watch Kurt sliding out of his pants, too, folding them carefully and placing them and his underwear in a neat little pile on Blaine’s nightstand on top of his shirt, beside a similar pile of Blaine’s own clothes.  Blaine couldn’t remember when those piles got there, but this was Kurt so _of course_ they were there.

_“Kurt,”_ Blaine said again, looking at him, grasping his hips.  Kurt was just really, really, _really_ beautiful and amazing and sometimes Blaine just wanted to make him feel every good thing in the world, and right now maybe he could.  And Kurt was long and pink and hard and just like him between his legs, only not like him at all, a little thinner when Blaine wrapped a hand around him, because everything about Kurt was thin and tall and beautiful.

Kurt squeaked when he did it, said his name again, and Blaine was absolutely the most in love with him he could ever be.  He let go to push Kurt’s legs apart, touch his thighs and his balls and run a finger up the crease at his legs; Kurt was so pink and _pretty_ , and he sounded pretty too, air in his voice when he said, “Blaine, please, I just…come up here and kiss me and touch me, please, I…”

So Blaine moved to the side of him so he could reach Kurt and kiss him at the same time, be close to him, and he touched him so long his arm began to ache but he didn’t stop because _Kurt_ , until Kurt made stuff, too.  And Kurt got a little frantic then, scrambling for the baby wipes and paper towels that were somehow on Blaine’s nightstand.  After they were clean he calmed down, curling himself around Blaine’s body and it was so nice, lying there together like this, maybe even as nice as what had come before.

“We won’t be able to do this back in school,” Kurt said.  “It’s against the rules, and it’s—I don’t think I would be comfortable with that, anyway.  Just kissing at school, do you understand?”

Blaine nodded, even though the thought of not doing this again now that they’d done it and Kurt would be _right there_ , every day, made him really, really sad. 

“But,” Kurt went on, “you were eighteen today, and I’m eighteen, and…I just wanted to do it—something—while we could.”

Blaine nodded again.  He felt like he should say something, but his heart felt too full for that many words right now, for thinking.  It didn’t make sense to him that eighteen mattered, but then a lot of things about Kurt didn’t make sense to him, and that was okay. 

“I love you,” is what he eventually settled on, because that seemed the best right now, the truest it had ever been.

Kurt looked at him with glittery blue eyes and kissed him, and Blaine was pretty sure he’d never felt more grown-up than he did in that moment.


	12. Kindred

_September 2011_ ~ Kindred

“Well, Kurt,” Mrs. Faber began, sitting prim and proper, legs crossed, in her seat.  Kurt liked that she dressed well, today in a classy apple-red cardigan with beading around the neckline paired with a simple, knee-length black skirt.  “I know last week we were beginning to discuss your relationship with your father, figure out where those sparks of your condition might have started.  Have you thought about it like I asked?  Do you have any insight?”

Kurt stared at her shoes: black pumps with 1-inch heels, strapped and fastened with black heart-shaped beads.  “I have something I’d like to talk about,” he said.  “If that’s alright?”

He didn’t have to look at her face to know she was surprised.  “Of course!” she said, not even trying to mask her excitement.  “Of course, we can talk about anything you like.  Please.”

“I’d like to talk about Blaine.  I mean—things have been good.  But it seems I’ve hit a bit of a roadblock.”

“That must be very frustrating for you,” she said.

Kurt nodded.  The thing is, as much as he wanted to distrust Mrs. Faber, after a full year of dealing with his overt resistance she was still kind and patient with him and to all appearances had kept his every confidence.  She got into his head and under his skin more than he let her see, but the longer they knew each other the less that bothered him.  Right now, it was kind of great that he had her here—he needed someone, for maybe the first time, enough to be able to admit to it.  He _was_ frustrated.

He forced his next words out.  “Blaine loves me,” he said, flushing.  “Blaine loves me, and he tells me all the time, and he’s not pushing, but…”

“But you haven’t said it back,” she supplied.

“I don’t know why,” he said, hating how helpless he felt, sounded.  “I—there’s a million reasons, probably, and… I want to.  I want to give that to him.”

“He’s given you so much, you want to be sure he knows how you feel.”

Again, Kurt nodded.  “It’s that, but it’s more than that.  It’s—I want to be sure.  But the thing is, I _am_ sure.  Blaine is… he’s… too special to put into words.”

Mrs. Faber smiled.  “I’ve seen you together.  I don’t know how it feels for you, but from my perspective, it looks like the two of you have connected on a very deep level—almost intrinsically, I would say.”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile too, just thinking about it that way.  “Have you ever read Anne of Green Gables?” he asked.

“I _love_ Anne of Green Gables.  Just the movies, though.  I’m not much of a reader.”

“My mom had the entire collection, and when I got old enough, I made it my mission to read all of them.  And I watched the movies, of course.  Gilbert Blythe was so handsome.” He sighed.

“You know, he kind of reminds me of Blaine, in a way.  Same energy,” Mrs. Faber said.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Yeah, yeah he does.  But anyway—that part always stuck with me.  Anne and her kindred spirits.  Diana, her bosom friend.  I used to dream I’d have a friend like that, and now I look at Blaine and sometimes… it’s like I got so much more.  More than I deserve.”

“More than you deserve,” Mrs. Faber echoed.  “Tell me about that.”

Kurt shrugged.  “Blaine is so _good_ , and I can be so—bossy and demanding and selfish and caught up in my own world.  There’s a reason I don’t have any friends.”

“And yet, you say that Blaine loves you.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think it is that _he_ sees in you?”

Kurt bit back the sarcastic retort that immediately sprung to mind.  He could recognize it for what it was, now—a way to avoid the question, a way to escape something he hadn’t actually thought about and didn’t want to think about, if he was honest, and what did that tell him?

He was getting freakishly good at this.

He took a few moments to mull it over, despite the gnawing pressure to supply an answer and not waste time.

“I—I think he sees that I’m smart, and he likes that, because it’s something he sees as lacking in himself.  He’s… he’s attracted to me.”

“Go on,” Mrs. Faber urged with a knowing smile.

“I offer him stability.  Even if it’s too much, it’s neurotic, I think it’s something he appreciates.  Maybe even part of him, somewhere deep down, likes the challenge, likes loving someone who’s unlovable.”

“You’re unlovable?” she asked.  “Well, that’s interesting.  I wasn’t informed.”

Kurt huffed, but it wasn’t lacking humor.  This woman was _good_ … tolerable, even.  “I hate it when you do that,” he told her.

“Ahh, but _I_ so enjoy these little competitions.  Check.  _Mate_.”  She stared at him; he dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet.  “We both know there have been people in your life who have loved you, Kurt.  Humor me.  Tell me who they are.”

“Carole and Finn, or so they say,” Kurt answered.

“Before that.  Who made you _believe_ you were loved.”

“My dad,” he admitted begrudgingly, voice barely above a whisper.  That was the right answer, he knew.  Unfortunately, it was also the truthful one.

He risked a glance at her, and she was watching him still, now with so much genuine _sadness_ in her face.  “You’re a smart man, Kurt.  You know where I’m going with this.”

Kurt sucked in a breath.  “My dad loved me, and now he’s dead.  My mom probably loved me too, and she’s dead.  Everyone _I_ ever said those words to, or would have wanted to, is dead.  Is that where you’re going with this!?”  By the time he finished, his breathing was heavier, his voice a bit louder, and the moment he realized it he felt ashamed, exposed.  “I’m sorry,” he said more evenly.

“That is where I was going,” Mrs. Faber said.  “Take a moment, focus.  How do you feel about all of that?”

“You think I’m afraid that if I tell Blaine I love him, I’m going to lose him too.”

“That’s not what I asked you for.  I asked for a feeling.”

Kurt slumped down in his chair, crossed his arms and closed his eyes, willing himself to be anywhere but here.  _Therapy_.  Sometimes he couldn’t _stand_ Mrs. Faber!

He took longer than a moment, a few minutes, at least.

“Maybe I am a little bit afraid,” he admitted eventually.  “But that’s not—I feel _guilty_ , which doesn’t make any sense, because I’m guilty now because I _haven’t_ told him.  I feel—when I think about telling him, I feel anxious.  Out of control.”

“Good,” Mrs. Faber said.  “Thank you for sharing that, Kurt.  Now we’re getting somewhere.”

He frowned at her, because he could scent therapeutic BS a mile away.  Even if it did kind ofmake him feel a little calmer.

“Let’s save the _guilty_ for a moment,” she said, “and focus a little on the anxiety, the feeling of being out of control.  I know that’s familiar for you, something you hate.”

Slowly, Kurt nodded.

“But let’s focus there.  What is that about, Kurt?  Where does it come from?”

“If I tell Blaine I love him, I’m telling him something I’ve only ever told my dad.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding, then: “you’re giving him something special.”

Kurt shifted to grip the arms of his chair; he chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the clock on the wall behind her.

“Kurt,” Mrs. Faber said gently.  “You’re giving him something precious, is that accurate?”

He snapped his attention back to her.  “Yes,” he admitted.

“I’m wondering what that is, the thing that you’re giving him.  I’m wondering if it’s more than just your love.”

She wasn’t wondering anything, actually; she totally _knew_.  But he couldn’t say it.  It made him feel bad, guilty and inhuman, knowing what it was he was protecting.  This thing that gave him stability, focus, that ruled his life…and yet he cherished it, couldn’t hate it.  If only the rest of the world could see how much better things were, when you were careful, when you kept things neat and clean and clear.

“Kurt, I feel like I’m losing you,” Mrs. Faber was saying.  “What is it, do you think, that you’re giving him?  What are you giving him when you say _I love you_?”

Kurt gripped the arms of the chair so hard his fingers hurt, the wooded corners biting into his flesh.  “I’m giving him the power to hurt me,” he whispered.  “I’m giving him some control.”

He could see it out of the corner of his eye: she was smiling at him, eyes shimmering with what they liked to call empathy.  “That’s a very difficult thing to admit.  I want you to know that I appreciate your trust.”

Kurt stayed silent, gripping.  She waited, though, until his body relaxed.  Until finally, he could look at her again.

“Knowing what you know, do you want to tell Blaine you love him?  Truly?”

Kurt didn’t have to think about his answer, not this time.  “Yes.”

“Then let’s work on that, hmm?  We can find a way together.”

“We have eight minutes left,” Kurt pointed out.

“Next week, then.  If you like.”

Kurt sighed and looked her in the eye, managing a half-smile.  “I would like that very much.”

***

It took more than a week in the end.  A letter Kurt wrote and re-wrote and wrote again but couldn’t get quite right, finally typed so it would be neat enough and then scrapped altogether.

A sewn teddy bear, whose limbs were not quite straight enough and whose tummy was too small for the letters.

Spelled out in chocolates, which he discarded when he realized that Blaine would _actually_ eat every one.

Played out in a song, then recorded, then put away for much, much later when he was actually ready for Blaine to hear him sing.

Written with fingertips into Blaine’s palm.  Whispered in the still loneness of the night.  Spoken in at least three different languages, which made Blaine look at him funny until Kurt laughed, nervous, and dismissed all his questions.

It ended in simple words spilled from his lips, one ordinary day when Blaine said, “I love you,” and Kurt answered, unthinking, “I love you too.”  There was no room for the fear, then, his world too illuminated by the brightness of Blaine’s smile.

The words were never needed, anyway.  Blaine’s unadulterated heart had always known.


	13. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very serious warning with this part. There’s nothing that really happens in this section that would require a warning beyond the general one I’ve given, but things get very intense in this part of the story. This was very hard to write, and I imagine it will be very hard to read. Please, make sure you’re in a good place before you read it, and also, as always - this doesn’t reflect everyone’s experience.

_October 2011, Part 1_ ~ Midnight

Blaine loved classes, except the last few in the afternoon when his mind typically turned to Kurt, Kurt, Kurt because they hadn’t seen each other for _so many_ hours.  It helped, though, that last period this year was English.  Blaine loved English, and books, and stories.  They had just finished _Among the Hidden_ , which was really, really good except the parts that were scary and sad, and next they were going to read _Walk Two Moons_ , which Blaine was really excited for because Kurt said it was one of his favorite books from middle school.

Only Blaine hadn’t been able to concentrate today, not as much as usual.  He was feeling jumpier, like he had to get out of his seat, and for some reason everything was bothering him.  He’d been a few minutes late for breakfast this morning because he got distracted in the shower, and then Kurt had snapped at him, and then he’d snapped back at Kurt, and they had barely talked at all during breakfast and that made Blaine sad and also a little angry too, because really why did Kurt _always_ have to be so particular?  And then he must have been in a bad mood because of that, because he yelled at Brittany this morning when she kept going on and on about Santana and unicorns, and he’d made her cry which really sucked, and yeah, he maybe wasn’t having the greatest of days.

But now it was English class, and he kind of felt okay with everything that had happened.  Actually, he felt kind of amazing.  He kept thinking about all those kids in _Among the Hidden_ and how they never got to go outside.  And that must really suck, because Blaine _loved_ to be outside.  And what would they do all day, anyway?  They must read a lot.  Blaine loved to read.  If only he could give them that, give them something to read.

And then he had the Best Idea Ever.  He could write a book!  He could write a really good book for the children, and then they’d all love him; everyone would love him and Kurt would love him extra much.  Blaine _loved_ children.  Children were pretty much the Best Thing Ever, because they loved to play all the time, just like Blaine. 

He should have children.  He should have children with Kurt.  Kurt would make the very prettiest children, and Blaine could be the very best daddy, he was certain.  And there was definitely room for a crib right in between their beds, and he could give them everything with all the money he made from writing the Very Best Children’s Book, and they would love him.

But what would he write about?  He could maybe write a book for Brittany, to make her happy, about unicorns, since he made her cry.  He had to tell her that, so that she wouldn’t be sad anymore and she wouldn’t hate him, and then he would go write it so he could give it to her right away.

Blaine was so smart.  He had the best ideas ever!  No wonder Kurt loved him so much, because he was perfect and Kurt was perfect and they were perfect together, and oh, there was Brittany!

“Brittany,” he hissed, loud-whispering.  “Brittany, I’m writing a book about unicorns!  A book about unicorns so you won’t be sad, Brittany, because you shouldn’t be sad because the world is so beautiful, and you should be happy.  And the world also has Kurt—“

“Blaine?  We’re in the middle of class.  Is something wrong?”

Blaine looked at Mr. Connor, confused.  “Of course nothing’s wrong!  I’m having the Best Day Ever and Brittany will be happy again because I’m going to be a famous children’s book author, and everyone will love me!”

“Blaine,” Mr. Connor said.  “Do you think you need to go see Ms. Genna?”

Blaine jumped out of his seat, beaming at the teacher.  “That’s a great idea!  That’s a great idea, Mr. Connor, because I can tell her all about my book!  And she can tell me how to write a book because she’s really, really smart and she’s pretty and she should be having an amazing day!”

Mr. Connor frowned, which didn’t make any sense because what was there to frown about?  “Blaine.  I need you to go straight to see Ms. Genna, do you understand?  Do you need an escort?”

“Yes, I understand!  Geesh.  I’m going straight to Ms. Genna to tell her about the book, and smart ideas for smart people!”

“Blaine—“

But Blaine didn’t stay to listen to him, because he had a very important mission to go and see Ms. Genna _right now_.  She had to know about his book!  Ms. Genna would love his book and she would love him, because smart ideas for smart people!  And for once, Blaine was one of the smart people!

He headed straight to Ms. Genna’s office, just like he said, only on the way he had a thought and, well, he couldn’t go to Ms. Genna’s office because what about Kurt?  Kurt should know about his book first, because Kurt was the smartest smart people of all the smart people, even smarter than Ms. Genna, even smarter than _Blaine_ , and he was the prettiest people of all the smart people and Blaine loved him and Kurt loved Blaine.  Blaine should find him and tell him about his book because that would make Kurt so, so happy just like Blaine was so happy!

Only he ended up outside and he didn’t know how, and he realized he didn’t know where Kurt was.  Oh well, Kurt would find him!  Kurt was the smartest people of all the smart people!  And the sun was shining and even though it was cold, kind of, that didn’t bother him because outside was the very best place to be on the very best day ever and Kurt would surely know that, and in the meantime Blaine would write his book so he could show it to Kurt and make him the happiest happy of all the smart people!

He pulled out his notebook and a pencil and he started to write.  It was amazing, incredible, like nothing else, the words just pouring out of him and he filled page after page after page. He made drawings too, good drawings because he was a smart people now and look what he was making!  He was so smart now and Kurt was smart and Kurt would be so, so proud of him!

“Blaine?” a voice called from somewhere distant, and Blaine was going to ignore it at first but then he realized he knew that voice, and he looked up and Kurt was standing there.

“Kurt!” he jumped up, jumped up and down, grabbed Kurt and hugged him close.  “Kurt, Kurt, Kurt look at my book look at my book!  It’s about unicorns and the happy world and all the smart people, and you are the smartest of all the smart people and I am a smart people too!”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt said, frowning, and Blaine didn’t understand why Kurt would frown because wasn’t Kurt happy to see him on this beautiful, beautiful day and they were smart people to be smart and beautiful together.  “You’re shivering, Blaine.  It’s fifty degrees.  And it’s nearly time for dinner…”

“Kurt, no!  Kurt, no!  It’s so nice out here, Kurt, and I wrote you a book, see, only actually it’s for Brittany.  You should write with me!  We can write smart, smart books together!”

Kurt was frowning, still, pulling off his coat, wrapping it around Blaine’s shoulders.  Only Blaine didn’t need the coat—he shrugged it off.  “You should smile, Kurt,” Blaine told him, “you should smile because it’s a beautiful day and we’re beautiful people!”

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath and he didn’t smile, not at all.  “Come on, Blaine.  Come inside with me.”

“Will you smile if I come inside with you?” Blaine demanded.  “Will you read my story?”

“Yes,” Kurt said.  “Come to our room with me, and then I’ll smile, and then I’ll read your story.”

Blaine nodded, a little put-out because why, why, why wouldn’t Kurt want to stay outside?  It was so _nice_ outside, but Blaine liked their room too, their room and its walls and its beds and its mirrors and its desks and Kurt and Kurt and Kurt and Kurt led him through the hallways by the hand, until Blaine got tired of it because Kurt was so _slow_ and so he ran ahead.

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt said from behind him, but Blaine didn’t slow down.  It was so much fun to run; why couldn’t Kurt love running?

When Kurt got into their room he shut the door behind them.  “Sit down, Blaine.  Sit down on your bed.  I need you to stay there, okay?  I need you to wait here while I go talk to Mr. Francis.”

“No.  No, Kurt, you said you would read my story; you said you would smile!   You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Blaine,” Kurt said.  “Your story is all scribbles.”  He snatched the notebook from where it was clutched in Blaine’s hands, opening it and showing it to Blaine.  “Look.”

“No.  No, you’re wrong, Kurt!  You’re wrong you’re wrong you’re wrong.  You’re just jealous because I wrote a whole book, and you won’t write anything because even though you’re the smartest of the smart you don’t ever do anything fun and you can’t write!  You can’t write like me!”

“Blaine.  You’re not feeling very well.  Just sit down, try to calm down, and I’ll go and get Mr. Francis and be right back, okay?  We’ll help you.”

“Don’t go,” Blaine said.  “You can’t go, Kurt, you said you’d stay here and read my story.  YOU SAID YOU’D SMILE!”

“I _can’t_ smile!” Kurt said in a sharp, short, _mean_ voice.  “I can’t smile, because you’re a mess and it’s happening again and you’re so _infuriating_ , and you’re going to hurt yourself and what if I can’t stop it!?  And we’re late for dinner, Blaine.  We’re late for dinner and I missed study time because I had to look for you!”

“Who cares about study time?  Maybe _you_ need to study, but I don’t need to study.  I wrote a book.  I wrote a book and I’m going to be famous, Kurt, and then you’ll see!”

Kurt groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up and pulling it and he still wasn’t smiling; why was Kurt so stupid and boring and strict?  He never let Blaine have any fun, and Blaine really wanted to have fun, and he wanted Kurt to have it with him.

“I’m going now,” Kurt said finally.  “I’m going to get Mr. Francis, and then I’m going to eat dinner while there’s still dinner!”  He moved toward the door but Blaine was faster, rushing forward and jumping in front of it.

“I don’t want you to go!” he said.  “I want you to stay; you have to stay and read my book like you promised because you’re ALWAYSsupposed to keep your promises.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed.  “Move, Blaine.  Please.  Get out of my way.”

“No!”

Kurt sighed and shook his head.  “I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t do this, you’re… you’re _crazy_.”

“Fine!” Blaine screamed, starting to cry now.  “Fine, leave you’ll leave you’ll leave…” he moved to the bed and grabbed a pillow, throwing it at Kurt as he slipped out the door.

And Kurt was gone.  And he hadn’t smiled and he hadn’t read Blaine’s book, and Blaine _hated_ him.  He hated him so much and he hated this stupid room with its stupid _Kurtness_ and…

Suddenly he was on Kurt’s bed, curled up, and the room around him was a complete disaster.  And Rex was on the floor and Kurt was nowhere to be found, and Kurt’s plant was smashed on the floor and his computer was on the floor and oh no, oh no, oh no, what had Blaine done?  Kurt would hate him now.  Kurt already hated him because he left, he left Blaine and he wasn’t coming back.

Blaine slid to the floor and he crawled, crawled, crawled all the way to the door, and everything was too big and he couldn’t walk on it because what if it collapsed and fell on him?  It was safer in the hallway, safer and Blaine could breathe.  He looked around, anxious, but the hall was empty.  He could see the door, and he hurried outside of it.  He had to find Kurt and he had to make Kurt love him again. 

He went through one door and another and another, shrinking away to hide every time he saw someone, because he didn’t know who they were and they were out there and Kurt was out there and he was in trouble, and Blaine had to find Kurt before the people found him and took Kurt away from him forever.

Crying, Blaine went out another door and was outside.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  He was safe, safe for now, only he hadn’t found Kurt.  Where could Kurt be?

He wandered street after street in the dark, looking behind bushes and into trashcans, wondering where they put Kurt.  Cars zoomed by him and they were so loud, too loud and he covered his ears.  He was cold and it was dark and it must be late, too late.  Where was Kurt?  Why hadn’t Kurt come to find him yet?  It was late too late too late, and Blaine had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be here, and he couldn’t find Kurt and the world was so dark, so dark and big and empty.

He finally slunk to the ground outside a bright building, the parking lot abandoned, leaning up against a large green box.  He hoped nothing would come out of the box, but then he saw it, out of the corner of his eye.  A monster—hairy with beady eyes and razor teeth and too-big ears, crawling towards him, slowly slowly slowly, and Blaine had nowhere to hide.  He wrapped his arms around himself, buried his face in his arms, trembling, so cold so cold too cold and where was Kurt?  Why hadn’t Kurt come to find him, to hold him and make him warm?

Then he remembered.  Kurt had left.  Kurt didn’t want him anymore.

He sat there and hugged his knees and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, until there were noises and bright lights and the skidding of a car stopping too-close, and a man got out and Blaine couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him.

“Damn, kid!” the man said.  “Whatcha doing out here?  It’s past midnight!”


	14. Needle

_October 2011, Part 2_ ~ Needle

It had been eight days since Blaine went into the hospital, and Kurt felt untethered, like he was hanging on to sanity by the frailest of threads.  There was so much inside of him now, too much for even his carefully-ordered world to contain, and yet there was a horrible, aching void there too.

It was _hard_ , so hard to get out of bed each morning.  Most mornings Kurt didn’t manage it on time, lingering as his alarm blared, staring at his clock as the numbers ticked past—one minute late, two minutes late, three minutes late, until the anxiety building within him overcame the emptiness.  He’d jump up, jittery, rush through his routine and nothing would go right and most mornings he was sobbing by the time he was through. 

But that wasn’t the worst part.  The worst part was coming out of the bathroom to find Blaine’s bed vacant, having no one there to wake up, no one to fill his morning with familiar, happy chatter, no one to walk with down to breakfast exactly on time.

Classes were torture but also the best distraction, and he filled the spare minutes between periods and scheduled activities with studying.  He’d actually gotten a good start on every assignment he had due for the entire semester, except his work was horrible and utterly unacceptable, none of it finished, and it was only his hate of mess that kept him from ripping each paper to shreds.

_Kurt and Blaine time_ was the hardest, and ultimately led to his fingers riddled with holes from his needle, over a dozen blood-dotted bowties sewn for Blaine from spare scraps of material.  A bunch of the staff and teachers had noticed and reluctantly, he’d switched to crocheting and was now making Blaine a cardigan.  He almost missed the bright sparks of pain that had nearly managed to pierce through his oblivion. 

He missed Blaine.  He missed Blaine unbearably, and he couldn’t remember a time when everything inside had felt this bad, everything had looked this bleak.  Even the days and weeks and months following his father’s death paled in comparison to this, although Kurt supposed he should be grateful he had better skills to manage it this time.

It was getting worse.

The day after he had ruined everything, he’d received a call from Mrs. Anderson, informing him that Blaine was safe now in the hospital, and Kurt shouldn’t bother to come because he wasn’t feeling up to visitors, not quite yet.

He’d driven down anyway the moment classes were finished, only to be held up by the security guard in the lobby.  Mrs. Anderson had come down, then, to speak with him.

“ _Kurt_ ,” she’d said with sad eyes.  “Kurt, dear, how are you?”

“Please.  Please, let me see him.”

“Blaine is sleeping, Kurt.  They have him on a lot of medication.  He’s still—he’s still not well, sweetheart.  He probably won’t be for a while.”

“I just want to—“

“Go on back to school now, won’t you?  I’ll be sure to let him know that you came by.”

 “Have him call me, please, when he can?  Tell him I love him.”

“Of course.  Of course I will.”  She stepped forward, pulled him into her arms.  He stood stiffly in her embrace, then awkwardly wrapped his arms loosely around her, glancing nervously about the room. 

She’d slipped him some gas money, hearing nothing of his protests, and promised they’d contact him as soon as anything changed.

Blaine never called.  The Andersons never called.  He thought to call them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  They’d asked him to give them time, said they would call, and he had to take them at their word.

Kurt went to therapy three times a week now in addition to group, which he refused to participate in.  It was all a waste of time.  He didn’t need extra therapy (even though he knew, logically, that he did.)  He needed Blaine.

The guilt sat heavy in his gut, heavier each day, and it got worse.

He set about rearranging his socks, only to startle later and realize over an hour had passed.  He slept clean through his alarm, jerked awake, panting.  He was late for breakfast.  He was late for class.

He missed a therapy appointment; it completely slipped his mind.  Mrs. Faber came to his dorm and found him sitting on his bed in his perfectly de-cluttered room, blemished only by the notably glued-together pot with its lopsided flowers in the windowsill, a broken CD case here, a torn poster there.  He was staring into space; he didn’t even hear her knock before she stepped through the door.

“Kurt?  Oh, Kurt—”  She walked to the bed, sitting gingerly next to him, and took his hand.  “You missed our appointment,” she told him.

“I—I what!” he startled, glancing at the clock.  “I—I don’t know how.  I’m so sorry, Mrs. Faber!  I didn’t mean—“

“Of course not,” she said.  “Of course you didn’t.  But it’s important you come to therapy, Kurt.  Especially now.  You’re—you’re not doing well, and we don’t want you ending up in the hospital along with Blaine.  That wouldn’t solve anything.”

Kurt instinctively shuddered, but when he thought about it… at least they’d be together.  “You’re right,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry.”

She squeezed his hand, made considerable effort to catch his eye.  He squeezed back, hard.  “You need help, Kurt.  You need to let us help you.”

Kurt looked at her obediently, hated himself as he felt his face began to crumble.  “I don’t want help,” he said.  “I don’t want therapy.  I only want him.”

***

He received a phone call that very night.  “He’s been asking for you, Kurt.  It’s a little better now, if you’d like to see him.”

“Yes,” Kurt told her.  “Please.  What time?”

“Visiting hours are from 2 to 5 on Saturdays.  But let Henry pick you up, hmm?  It would make me feel better.”

The idea of riding with Blaine’s father made Kurt nervous, but he agreed anyway, knowing it was best.  “Sure.”

“1 o’clock then.  Be ready.”

“Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said.  “Of _course_ I’ll be ready.”

It took him half an hour to rearrange his schedule for the following day, which wasn’t terribly difficult given the gaping hole he used to call date night.  That was okay, though; it was all okay.  He was going to see _Blaine_.

***

The ride over was stilted, but not as uncomfortable as Kurt had imagined.  He was so grateful to be riding with Mr. Anderson as opposed to Mrs. Anderson, because while Blaine’s father asked questions, showed concern, he didn’t _press_.

“I should probably give you some idea what to expect,” Mr. Anderson said.  “Unless—if you’ve been there before.”

“I was,” Kurt swallowed, “once.  For depression, mostly.  A few months after my father, and… Carole and Finn, they tried but they couldn’t handle me.  Different hospital, though.”

Mr. Anderson nodded, eyes on the road.  “He’s not good, Kurt.  But he’s better.  We’ll fill you in together when we get there, alright?  Then give you some time.”

“I would appreciate that,” Kurt told him.

They passed the rest of the drive in silence.  When they reached the hospital, Mrs. Anderson was there as promised, and the three of them huddled in the corner of a vacant waiting room to talk.  Only nobody said anything for the longest time, Mrs. Anderson sitting and staring at him with that _you poor dear_ look he could barely tolerate.  Absently, he wished that Carole was here.  Carole cared about him without ever looking at him like _that_.

Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore: “I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me.  I can handle it.  Please.”

Mrs. Anderson heaved a sigh, took her husband’s hand, and spoke.  “What happened to Blaine the other day; what’s still happening now… it’s worse than what we’ve seen before.  So far, Blaine has experienced three depressive episodes, the worst of which lasted almost four months.  He’s experienced numerous hypomanic episodes, but Kurt… what you saw the other day appears to be full-blown mania.  I’m not sure what you know, but those types of episodes last longer, and they’re typically more severe.”

“Alright,” Kurt said, nodding.  It was upsetting news, yes, but not particularly surprising.  “What does that mean for him?”

“Well, for one thing, it means that he now has a diagnosis of bipolar type one as opposed to bipolar type two.  It’s possible he’ll never experience another manic episode, but unlikely.  But it’s still manageable, Kurt.  He’s going to be here for a good bit longer while they reconfigure his medications.”

“And what are his symptoms?”

Mrs. Anderson sucked in a breath, shaky, and her husband let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her waist.  “When they found him, he was in a state of paranoia and experiencing some delusions.  That can happen sometimes during mania, though it doesn’t happen all the time or with everybody.  Since then, he’s alternated between states of extreme happiness and confidence—similar to what you’ve seen with the hypomania—and occasionally milder paranoia and anger.”

“He wrecked our room,” Kurt said softly.

“I know,” Mr. Anderson said.  “They told us.  I’m sorry, Kurt.  So far, the anger has usually been in response to a trigger, though that isn’t to imply that it’s rationale.”

“No, it was my fault,” Kurt said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring at the wall.

“There’s something else,” Mrs. Anderson continued.  “I—this isn’t easy, Kurt, not after everything.  Blaine seems to be coming down from the mania now, not that it’s been so bad here because of the sedatives… but there’s some evidence that he’s headed into an episode of depression.  I just want you to be prepared.  He’s not going to be the Blaine you know today, and he might not be for a while, not until they can figure out what medications will work long-term.  If you don’t want to see him—“

“Of course,” Kurt said sharply.  “Of course I want to see him.”  He blinked, fighting back the moisture that had gathered at his eyes.  “I’m sorry.  I’d like to see him now, if that’s all.”

“That’s all,” Mrs. Anderson told him, placing a hand on his knee.  “Unless you have any more questions, Kurt.” 

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head.  “No, thank you, I—I appreciate you allowing me to come and see him.”

Mrs. Anderson smiled then, though it was faint.  “We couldn’t keep you away.  He was out of it for so long, Kurt, but as soon as he started to make sense again, all he asked for was you.  A few times in the thick of it too, to be honest.”

Kurt nodded and stood, waiting until they shuffled past him so he could follow.  They led him down a long hall to a pair of thick double doors.  Mr. Anderson rang the bell, and a few minutes later they were allowed in.  Kurt only had to look at them pointedly before they gestured in the direction of one of the rooms.

He almost stumbled, he was walking so fast.

And there was Blaine, curled up on a bed on the far side of the room, facing the window.  Kurt said his name; he couldn’t help it.  He pulled the door closed and hurried to him just as Blaine was sitting up, throwing his arms around Blaine’s neck.

Blaine collapsed into him, sobbing, clinging.  “Blaine,” Kurt said.  “Blaine I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean what I said.  I didn’t mean that I was done with you.  I could _never_ be done with you… and then I took too long to find someone and by the time we got back to the room you were gone, and I was so, so scared, and I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”

Blaine didn’t say anything, didn’t move, his arms like a vice wrapped around Kurt’s waist.  Kurt shushed him and kissed his forehead, just below where his hair was terribly mussed.  “I’m here now,” he said.  “Let’s just… let’s just lie down, hmm?  We don’t have to talk.”

He eased Blaine back down onto the bed, crawling onto it himself.  It was narrow, with barely enough room for them to squeeze together, but they managed it, curling on their sides with their noses touching and their hands clasped tight between them.  Kurt looked into Blaine’s eyes and knew this was enough; they didn’t need words.

Kurt kissed his nose, whispered, “It’s going to get better.  _I’m_ going to get better.  Whatever comes, Blaine, I promise you… I’ll be strong enough to find us a way.  I’m… I’ve been feeling pretty hopeless, too.  But I won’t give in to it.  I promise I’ll never give in.”

Kurt knew the truth.  He was messed up, and Blaine was messed up, and they should be one big, heaping disaster put together.  It was going to be hard, so he was going to have to try even harder.

Kurt was learning the truth.  Sometimes mess was beautiful, and sometimes perfection could be found where least expected: amidst the stark white walls of a hospital, where hope appeared dead and life at its ugliest.  Here at last—lying next to him, touching him, sharing his breath—was Blaine.


	15. Occasion

_October 2011, Part 3_ ~ Occasion

Blaine was discharged six days before Halloween.  Kurt was there with him for the ride home, so Blaine spent it holding Kurt’s hand while Kurt talked on and on and on about the costumes he had sewed for them and the new schedule he had made for them and the fish he’d gotten for Blaine so he’d have something to take care of.

Blaine knew he wasn’t quite right, not yet, maybe not for a long time.  He was _better_ , yes, a little bit each day.  It was like waking up, slowly… but he was still so _sleepy_.

Kurt wasn’t right either.  He was different.  He smiled more but not as bright.  He talked more.  He was trying hard, and Blaine knew it was for him, and he loved Kurt…but he didn’t know if he could try, not as hard, not yet.  He wanted to.

It was a start.

When they got to their room, Blaine clung to Mama for far longer than a grown-up should, and he let Daddy hit him on the back extra-long too.  He didn’t want them to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to cry.  It was like the sadness was dammed up within him, icy-cold and numbing so he couldn’t fully feel it.

Kurt sat close to him on Blaine’s bed, and they watched them leave.  “We’ve got about ten minutes before we have to walk down to dinner,” he said.  “Do you want to see our costumes?”

Blaine nodded, because he knew that was the response Kurt was looking for.  He managed a smile when Kurt brought them out, because they were great, of course—Blaine loved the nose and hat and oversized bowtie Kurt had made for his Pinocchio costume, and Kurt made the prettiest, most graceful Jiminy _ever_ … even if Blaine didn’t really feel like going to the party.

In fact, he was surprised that _Kurt_ wanted to go to the party, because Kurt avoided most people as a rule.

They went to dinner, where Kurt ate careful bites of his usual salad and Blaine pushed bits of chicken nuggets and broccoli around his plate, forcing himself to swallow at least half when Kurt gave him the look that Blaine knew meant he’d be getting a talking-to in a few minutes if he didn’t behave.  Honestly, sometimes Kurt was worse than Mama. 

Usually, that was a good thing.  Now it was annoying, too-much.

Kurt had them scheduled for half an hour of exercise after dinner, before _Kurt and Blaine time_.  Blaine groaned when he said it, so Kurt bit his lip and told him, “You’re probably tired.  We can start exercise tomorrow, Blaine.  You get some rest,” and kissed his cheek.

Blaine collapsed on his bed fully dressed, watching Kurt bend and stretch as his eyes drooped closed.  The last thing he felt were hands, pulling the blanket over him and tucking it around the edges of his body.  He hummed, snuggling gratefully into its warmth.  He barely woke an hour later when the nurse stopped in to give him his evening meds.

***

Each day got a little bit better.

The next day, Blaine managed to get through the exercise, surprised to find that it did make him feel better—and only a little of that was probably from getting to stare at Kurt’s butt.  He fell asleep in Kurt’s lap during _Kurt and Blaine time_ , halfway through _Ever After_.  He stirred during bed checks, enough to change into his pajamas.  He wished, not for the first time, that he could snuggle with Kurt all through the night.  Sometimes Blaine hated the rules.

The day after that the weather was nice, so Kurt dragged him outside once they’d gotten their dinner trays.  They sat by the pond while they ate, and Blaine watched the ducks.  They weren’t quite as interesting as he remembered them being before, but the fading sunshine felt good on his face, and Kurt’s hand was warm and sure in his.

Blaine loved Kurt, like, really, really _loved_ him.  He could try.

***

On the night of the dance, Blaine felt almost happy as he put on his costume, admiring himself in the mirror.  Kurt was acting a little funny in that way that Blaine knew now meant he was nervous, so Blaine wrapped his arms around his waist, nuzzled into his neck, close.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Kurt half-smiled.

Blaine hummed a little, sang a little… “and always let your conscience be your guide.”  He knew what a conscience was because Mama had explained it, and he thought it actually kind of made sense that Kurt was his.  But then Kurt was his everything, his whole world, practically.

Blaine tugged him along down the hallway, down to the huge room where they were having the dance.  He saw that Jeff was there and Sam and Brittany and a bunch of other people he really, really liked.  Even though he hadn’t felt much like talking to them recently, it seemed kind of okay right now.

“Blaine!” Sam said, coming up to him.  “You showed up, man!  Didn’t know whether to expect you or not.”  He smiled at Kurt, standing just behind Blaine, nodded, “Kurt.  Good to see you.”

Kurt nodded and smiled at Sam, which Blaine thought was odd because besides his smile, he looked kind of like he wanted to cry.  “Kurt—” Blaine started.

“How ‘bout you guys come and dance with us?” Sam said over the beat of the music, maybe not hearing him. 

Blaine frowned and glanced back at Kurt, who shook his head.  “You go,” he urged.

“Come on,” Sam told him.  “You guys are all dressed up for the occasion, might as well enjoy it!”

He grabbed Blaine’s hand, tugged him into the fray, tugged him away from Kurt, who didn’t follow. 

It took him two whole dances to find his way back to Kurt.  Dancing had been kind of fun, maybe, but it wasn’t as fun as it would have been before, and it wasn’t at all as fun as it would be with Kurt.  And Kurt was sitting in the corner all by himself with a cup full of water, taking little sips, staring into space, and he looked lonely and Blaine didn’t want that for him, not at all.

“ _Kurt_ ,” he said.  “You disappeared.  You should come; you should dance with me!”

Kurt’s eyes met his.  “I don’t think so,” he said.  “Not with all these people.”

“Then let’s go back to the room,” Blaine suggested.  “I want to be with you.”

“Blaine, it’s only 7:32.  The dance goes on until 9.”

Blaine shrugged.  “This is not as fun.  Not as much fun as being with you.”  He didn’t mention that nothing was as fun anymore. 

“We shouldn’t leave early.  It’s rude.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, feeling a bit irritated now.  “I want to go.”

Kurt stared at him for a long time before finally he nodded, though instead of going straight to their room like Blaine wanted, he made them stop at the nurse first so Blaine could get his meds.

Back in their room, Blaine got his laptop out and put on one of Kurt’s Broadway CDs, thinking that would maybe make Kurt feel better since it was still dance time, really.  And when he held out his hand, Kurt took it, and they danced.

They danced and twirled andspun together, laughing when they stumbled and fell against each other, halfway onto the bed.  And then suddenly, somehow, Kurt wasn’t laughing anymore.  He was crying.

“Kurt?” Blaine said, pulling him into his arms.  “Kurt, what’s wrong?  What happened?”

“I don’t get it,” Kurt said, voice heavy with frustration.  “I just—I’m doing all the right things;  I’m trying so hard.  Why doesn’t it feel any better?  You’re—you seem to be feeling better.”

Blaine frowned.  “Kurt,” he said.  “Do you think… maybe you have depression, too.  They gave me medicine—“

“I don’t want that!” Kurt said.  “No pills.  Just… just no.  I should be able to manage this myself.  I’m doing _all the right thing_ s!”

“Shh,” Blaine said, feeling helpless.  “We’ll get you help.  There are a lot of nice people to help us.  And I can help.  I can take care of you too, Kurt.”

Kurt’s arms tightened around him, and Blaine smoothed his hair, kissed his forehead, rubbed circles into his back.  He knew how to do this; Mama had done it enough times for him.  Kurt had done it for him.  He could do this for Kurt.

Maybe Blaine was just smart enough to be a conscience, too.  He had to try, anyway.

And that was it.  The one, the best bit of wisdom he had to offer.

“We have to do it together, Kurt,” he told him.  “We have to _both_ try.”

No matter how it felt inside, sometimes you had to just _do_.  Pinocchio had to learn to tell the truth to be a real boy, and now Blaine had to learn to be an actual grown-up, mental illness or no, if he was going to be a real boyfriend—a real _partner_ —for Kurt.

His eyes fell to the fish bowl that sat next to the broken flower pot on their window sill.  Ever since he bought the fish for Blaine, Kurt had been the one feeding it.  Blaine hadn’t hardly looked at it.  He hadn’t even _named_ it.

But he would feed the fish tonight while Kurt rested.  And he thought he had the perfect name for him, too.

_Jiminy_.

Blaine wasn’t a boy, not anymore.  And he was ready.


	16. Please

_November 2011_ ~ Please

Somehow, amidst their fading darkness, they began to fall into sync.

Kurt did consider medication, mostly to please Blaine.  He even talked it over with his therapist, but in the end he decided against it.  Maybe in the future, if things got worse and stayed that way… but he was managing for now, fighting his way through.

Blaine was fighting with him.

Kurt suspected that maybe at first, Blaine had gone along with the whole schedule thing because he was Blaine and that’s what he did, a people-pleaser to his very core.  Eventually he probably did it more explicitly to please Kurt, because he loved Kurt for some crazy, unfathomable reason.  And now—now Blaine did it because it was good for him, and he enjoyed it.  It was good for both of them.

Kurt’s days went like this:

Wake at 6, shower, ready.  Wake Blaine at 6:45.  Meditation for ten minutes at 7:15 (still a work-in-progress where Blaine was concerned), then it was straight down to breakfast at 7:30.

Yogurt and granola and fruit for Kurt.  Bacon or sausage, eggs, wheat toast, and orange juice for Blaine.

Classes started at 8:30, so they parted with a kiss—every morning—at 8:25.  Privately, of course.

After that, he didn’t see Blaine for several hours, because their lunches and free periods didn’t line up.  But that was okay.  Blaine was always so giddy-pleased when Kurt arrived back at their room promptly at 3 o’clock, was always waiting for Kurt there, and that—his smile, the way he hugged Kurt so tightly in greeting like he literally never wanted to let go— _that_ made Kurt’s day.

They chatted until 3:30, which was study time, which Blaine had gotten much, much better at.  At 5:25, they headed down to dinner.  Kurt ate from the salad bar, and Blaine ate whatever they were having, though Kurt made sure that always included vegetables.

A healthy lifestyle was essential for Blaine’s mental (and physical!) wellness, and that was certainly something Kurt could advocate, even help to ensure.

After dinner, they did yoga or took a walk or put in an exercise tape.  Seven was still and always _Kurt and Blaine time_ —usually a movie, but often times they cuddled up together and talked or didn’t talk, and sometimes they did almost nothing but kiss.  At 8, the nurse brought Blaine’s meds, and Kurt set about his sewing.  He was teaching Blaine to crochet, now, so they could do even that together.

At 9 o’clock Kurt went through his bedtime routine, leaving the bathroom open for Blaine at 9:30 when he would pick out their clothes.  At 9:45 they squeezed in a little maintenance cleaning (heavier now on the weekends) before heading to their separate beds just in time for bed checks at 10 o’clock.

Sometimes, on the hard days, Blaine would sneak into Kurt’s bed after checks, and they would huddle together under the blankets until lights out at 10:30.  Kurt never let him stay the whole night because just the thought of breaking the rules, breaking his _word_ that way made his stomach turn… but he longed for the day when Blaine could, when it would be just the two of them in their private little home, in their very own king-sized bed.

Kurt would be satisfied with a queen, except the thought of Blaine bouncing around on a huge mattress, looking small and perfect nestled beneath a colossal mound of blankets, warmed his heart.

They grew content, the both of them, with their simple routine, with each day the same save for weekends, when there was no class so they could squeeze in things like dates and more importantly, extra study time.  Eventually, that contentment blossomed further, until one day Kurt woke up and realized he was _happy_.

Now he only had to find a way to stay that way.

Alone in his bed in the dark hours of the night, he began to formulate a plan.

***

Kurt had mailed out applications to thirty different colleges over the summer after performing adequately on the ACTs.  He had considered taking the test again, but the itching stress of waiting too long to apply won out over his desire for a higher score.

Now he held a fresh application in hand, his eyes roaming over each neatly printed detail.  Even Kurt couldn’t find a word out of place, and he’d had the entire thing reviewed twice by Dalton’s career counselor.  The school wouldn’t have been his first choice, wouldn’t have been an option at all if you’d asked him a year ago, but now it was the best choice.

Holding his breath, he tucked the stack of sheets carefully into a glossy white envelope—already addressed—sealed it, and set it aside to send out the next day, a few folded bills to pay for certified postage tucked beneath it.

“What’s that?” Blaine asked, watching him curiously from his customary spot on his bed.  Blaine seemed to have something against desks, which Kurt found baffling.  How could one stand to write without a solid, even surface beneath them?

Kurt frowned.  “It’s study time, Blaine,” he reminded him.

“Right,” Blaine said, “sorry.”

Blaine didn’t know about The Plan, but then Kurt wasn’t sure Blaine realized that in only six short months they would be leaving Dalton behind.  It was up to them now to secure their future, and as much as Blaine was there with him, _trying_ , Kurt knew that pretty much meant it was up to him.

He would tell him, eventually.  When it was certain.  When their future was set, when Kurt could promise _this is what I have to offer you_ without the risk of it being stolen away.

Kurt wanted to please Blaine, too.


	17. Rent

_December 2011_ ~ Rent

Having Kurt home for the holidays was totally awesome and also kind of scary.

It was a little better now that he had Blaine.  The way Finn saw it, Blaine was kind of like Kurt’s bumper car—he protected Kurt, yes, but he also kind of protected everyone else from encountering Kurt full-force, made him more… bouncy…

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t quite the right analogy.  But the point was, Blaine was a pretty cool dude.  He had gotten super excited when Finn turned on the football game on Thanksgiving day, and that meant Finn had only earned an eye roll from Kurt instead of his customary glare.  Kurt had even stayed in the same room this year—probably because Finn had put _football_ on the schedule.

The schedule thing had been Rachel’s idea, and it was totally one of those things that made Finn love her (not that he didn’t already), because sure, Kurt revised them to his own specifications, but this way he felt more at home _and_ Finn got a bit of a say as to how the holidays would play out (see: football). 

This year, Kurt was only staying with them until late Christmas Eve, when he would be driving with Blaine to the Andersons’ just in time for midnight mass.  The schedule Finn gave him looked something like this:

10:00 wake up – Kurt makes pancakes

12:00 pizza for lunch

1:00 family stuff

4:00 Kurt makes dinner

5:30 dinner

7:00 caroling

Kurt read through the list and eyed him disdainfully.  “Where to start,” he said, and then promptly gave Finn his own list, because apparently he knew _exactly_ where to start.  “First of all, I wake up at 6, Finn.  That’s 6 am.  We’ll be eating breakfast at 7:30.  Pizza for lunch… fine, so long as there’s salad.  ‘Family stuff’ is too vague.  What kind of family stuff?  And I’ll need to start dinner at no later than 3.  You can’t rush perfection.  Finally”—he paused, frowning down at the list again—“7 o’clock is my time with Blaine.  And I hope by ‘caroling’ you mean something to do with your mother.”

Finn had gotten a little lost through all of that, but now he just grinned.  “No, actual caroling.  Like, singing and stuff.  Blaine is renting you out for the night.”

“I’m coming too!” Blaine piped up, and Kurt groaned, obviously noting the gleeful look on his boyfriend’s face.

Yep, Blaine was pretty much the coolest dude ever.

“Finn, you know I don’t sing anymore,” Kurt said quietly.

Finn reached out to place a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, pretending he didn’t mind when Kurt flinched at the touch.  At least he hadn’t pulled away.  “Just trust me on this one, hmm?  It’ll be okay.”

Kurt sighed, looked at Blaine, and reluctantly nodded.

***

On Christmas Eve Finn tumbled out of bed sometime around 10:15, peed, and trudged down to the kitchen for pancakes.  Only Kurt wasn’t in the kitchen—he was in the living room, doing some kind of strange bendy thing with Blaine.  “On a plate in the fridge, Finn, since you’re up so late.  Right near where the revised schedule is posted.  You should probably read it.”

“Cool,” Finn said.  “Thanks bro.”

He found the pancakes right where Kurt said they’d be—a huge stack of 10, and next to them a generous portion of Kurt’s homemade berry syrup.  Kurt knew him so well.  He’d never tell his mom this, but Kurt’s cooking _completely_ blew hers out of the ocean, or however that saying went.  Sometimes when Kurt came home and cooked a bunch of stuff Finn really, really wished he was home all the time… but then he remembered what that had been like for all of them, and he was just glad Kurt was somewhere where he could be safe and healthy and, even better, seemed to have found somebody who could actually make him happy.

Blaine was officially the coolest dude ever. 

Finn almost forgot about the schedule because _pancakes_ , only it caught his eye as he was closing the refrigerator door because it was written so big.  It read:

6:00 wake, ready (consider the bathroom reserved!)

6:45 wake Blaine

7:00 make breakfast

7:30 serve breakfast (be there or miss out, Finn!)

8:30 meditation

9:00 clean house

10:00 exercise

11:00 make pies

11:45 order pizza, salad

12:00 lunch

1:00 Carole makes her side dish

2:00 start on the bread

3:00 baking/decorating/cooking

5:30 dinner is served

6:30 clean up

7:00 caroling

9:30 leave for Blaine’s

Finn fist-pumped the air, pleased to see that caroling had made the final cut.  Blaine must have been pretty persistent.

Not that it mattered.  The gang would all be over anyway.  Finn couldn’t wait to see Kurt’s face. 

Or maybe he could wait, because _pancakes_.

***

Finn sat back in his chair with a sigh, rubbing his tummy and only just resisting the urge to unbutton his jeans.  “That was like, the best meal ever.”

Blaine nodded, but Carole looked a little put out.

“Sorry, Mom!” he quickly added.  She raised an eyebrow at him in that way moms had that meant _yes but I know what you’re **really** thinking_.

Finn generally hated that, because it was actually kind of creepy.  But tonight he had way more important things to worry about than his mother’s feelings. 

He glanced nervously at the clock, then at the door, then at Blaine, who was bouncing up and down in his seat and beaming.

Coolest dude _ever_.

Kurt came out of the kitchen.  “Okay, the dishes are do—“  The doorbell chimed.  “Who’s that?” he said, frowning.  He looked at Finn suspiciously.  “I thought you were forcing me out?”

It was Carole who answered the door, peeking out and then immediately opening it wide.  “Hey, kids!  You must be cold.  Come in, come in.”

Finn watched Kurt as he stared at the door, open-mouthed and aghast as the Glee club’s entire senior class filed in one-by-one: Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina; Artie and Mike and Puck.  Mr. Schue brought up the rear, trailing Emma behind him by the hand.

“Kurt!” Rachel exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.

Kurt stood there as if frozen, not returning the embrace.  “Rachel,” he finally muttered.

“Now is that any way to treat a dear friend you haven’t spoken to in nearly _two years!?_   Honestly, I understood when you lost your father and went off to that special school, but that excuse wore out at least—“

“Rachel,” Finn said, jaw clenched.  “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to do this?”

Rachel caught his eye and visibly deflated, clamping her lips together for a few moments and nodding.  “Yes, sorry,” she spoke at last.

Mercedes stepped forward.  “It’s good to see you, boo,” she told Kurt softly.

Kurt managed a half-smile.  “Mercedes,” he said. 

“We’ve really missed you, Kurt,” Mr. Schue spoke up.

“Yeah,” Artie agreed.  “Glee club hasn’t been the same without you.”

Kurt grappled blindly behind him, and Finn had barely come to the realization that he was looking for Blaine before the boy was there at his side, taking his hand.

“Everyone, this is Blaine,” Finn said.  “Kurt’s boyfriend.”

He’d already told them all about Blaine, of course.  The important stuff anyway.

The group began to make introductions, which Blaine graciously received.  In the time that took Kurt appeared to recuperate a bit, although he was glaring daggers at Finn.

Finn ignored him.

“It’s good to see you all,” Kurt eventually told them.  “I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you in so long.  It’s been…” he trailed off, clearly unsure what to say.

“Kurt’s been adjusting,” Carole supplied.  “He’s made a lot of progress, and I’m sure he’s happy that all of you are here.”

Kurt nodded, shooting her a grateful look.

Unfortunately, Carole wasn’t looking at him.  She was looking at Finn with that expression that moms got that meant _you forgot to mention a very important detail about this thing I agreed to, and don’t think because I’m playing along now it means you’re off the hook, mister._

Finn kind of really hated that one too.  “Let’s get our coats!” he said, too-cheerful.

Getting out of the house would be a good thing right about now; he was sure of it.

***

The caroling went pretty well, all things considered.  Kurt seemed to loosen up as the night wore on.  He was singing.  He was even _smiling_ , occasionally.  And just before they rounded the last neighborhood, Finn saw him huddling close to Mercedes, exchanging soft words, Blaine—as always—pasted at his side.

“It’s not even 9 yet.  How about we stop in at the Lima Bean for some hot chocolate?” Finn suggested.

There were yeas all around, and even Kurt nodded and said, “Yeah, we still have time.”

At the Lima Bean, they paid for their drinks and crowded around two tables they’d pushed together.  “So,” Rachel said.  “Let’s talk college plans, Kurt.  I know right before you left we were discussing NYADA…”

“I don’t sing anymore, Rachel,” Kurt told her.

Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Blaine beat her too it.  “You just did sing, Kurt.  And you sounded really pretty, too.”

“See,” Rachel said, gesturing with her hands, “there you go!”

“I don’t sing anymore, Rachel,” Kurt said more tersely.  “Not like that.”

“Fine, then.  What _are_ you going to do?”

Kurt glanced around the table, paling a little when he noted everyone’s eyes on him.  “I’ve applied to several different schools,” he answered diplomatically.  “What about the rest of you?”

Tina was the first to answer, shrugging, “Brown and a few back-ups, for law, although I plan to minor in musical performance.”

Mike sighed.  “I’m torn between pre-med and dance.  I’d rather not get into it right now; it’s a lot.”

“College isn’t for me, man,” Puck told the group.  “I’m headed to LA.  Hear they got plenty of pools with plenty of babes attached.  I’m trying to convince your brother here to go with me.”

Rachel frowned.  “Finn is applying in New York, Noah.”  She sat back in her seat, straightening her shoulders.  “College is important.”

Finn noticed Kurt watching him, curious.  “I’ve applied in New York,” he admitted, “but I’m not sure yet.”

“Finn—” Rachel started, bristling.

Mercedes rolled her eyes at the couple.  “Well, _I’m_ not going to college,” she said.  “LA bound for me too.  I’m gonna be a performer.”

“Please, Mercedes,” Rachel said.  “Without an education, you’ll never amount to—“

Mercedes held up her hand until Rachel stopped speaking, settling for shaking her head in disapproval.

“You guys haven’t changed a bit,” Kurt muttered under his breath.

“I’m not going to college,” Blaine offered.  “I don’t think I could, actually.  I just want to get a job.”

Kurt squeezed his hand.  “You could, if that’s what you really wanted,” he told him, and Blaine beamed.

Finn couldn’t help but smile at the pair of them.  In fact, everyone at the table was eyeing them fondly.

“Well,” Artie said, breaking the lapse of silence.  “I’m headed to the Big Apple as well, for film school.”

“You didn’t actually say where you were hoping for, Kurt,” Mr. Shue pointed out.

Emma offered him a smile.  “If you’re having some trouble deciding, I’d be happy to talk to you.”

“I—no, it’s—thank you, but… I applied to several different places.  Mostly in New York but some in LA, Chicago, Boston…“

Blaine’s face fell.  “I didn’t know you were planning to go so far,” he said.  “How—“

“Hey,” Kurt told him, looking him in the eye.  “Hey, just trust me, okay?  Trust me.”

Blaine bit his lip, still appearing uncertain, but eventually he nodded.

“I’m not sure what I want to do yet,” Kurt said to the rest of them.  “Something practical, stable… _not_ music”—he looked pointedly at Rachel—“or theatre.”

“But that was your dream,” Rachel said, this time more feebly.

Kurt glanced at Blaine, then met her eyes, then looked away.  “Dreams change,” he said simply.

***

They arrived home minutes before 9:30 after many promises to stay in touch.  Kurt was noticeably agitated, dashing up the stairs towards his room.  “We’re going to be late,” he mumbled.

“Hey, woah dude, stop,” Finn told him.  “You packed your stuff yesterday, and I loaded your car this morning.  You’re good to go.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, halting, then continuing to ascend the stairs more slowly.  “Thank you, Finn.  I’m just going to check, though.” 

He returned a few minutes later.  “Looks like you got everything,” he said to Finn, then narrowed his eyes.  “You’re still not forgiven for pulling that one, though.”

“No,” Carole said, stepping into the foyer, “you’re not.”

“Hey,” Finn said defensively.  “Blaine was in on it too!”

“Blaine had no idea what he was doing,” Kurt argued.

“Yes I did,” Blaine said to him.  “You said you’d try, and you need friends, Kurt, ‘cause friends are awesome, and Finn said you already had friends, so…”

Kurt’s face softened, but only momentarily.  He locked eyes with Carole.  “Totally Finn’s fault,” he said, and she nodded in agreement.

“Great,” Finn said, letting his shoulders slump.  “A guy tries to do something nice, and—“

“We need to be going,” Kurt interrupted.  “I—it was a lovely holiday, both of you.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Carole said, approaching Kurt to wrap him in her arms.  “We love having you; we miss you when you’re not here.  This is always your home, you know.” 

Kurt tensed, then seemed to almost melt into her embrace.  Her hugs were definitely melt-worthy, Finn knew.  They kind of reminded him of fudge.  Finn _loved_ fudge.  Especially his mother’s.

She hugged Blaine next.  “You boys be safe,” she told them.  “We love you.  Call sometime, yes, Kurt?”

Kurt smiled at her.  “I can pencil you in on Sundays,” he said, only half-joking.  He turned to Finn.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  “That was—” he stepped forward, smacked Finn on the arm.  “You should have warned me, you oaf!”  Then he hugged him.

Finn hugged back, smiling, giving his mother an _I-told-you-so_ look over Kurt’s shoulder.

“We better go,” Kurt said, stepping back.

“Right,” Finn said, offering Blaine a fist-bump then pulling him into a hug as well.  “Nice seeing you, little brother.”

“Finn,” Kurt said, “I’m older than you.”

Finn shrugged.  “Whatever.”

He watched them go for as long as he could, because when they were definitely, positively alone he had no choice but to turn back to his mother, and sure enough, she was giving him another _look_ again.

But then instead she suddenly wasn’t, and he was getting a fudge hug of his own.

Finn knew what that meant.  _You’re still in trouble, but you did the right thing_.


	18. Scarf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the mature rating as well, FYI.

_January 2012_ ~ Scarf

Every minute detail was in place.  They had an entire day cleared and Blaine’s house to themselves, as his parents had flown out to L.A. to help settle Cooper in his new home after the holidays.  Kurt had all the supplies they would need, carefully researched and ordered discreetly.  They had talked and talked and talked the subject to death, making sure they both understood everything and wanted the same things.  They had already seen each other naked—on a few occasions now—and had made each other come.  They were ready.  Kurt was ready.

So why did he feel so nervous?

He was jittery with it in the morning when he insisted they go out for breakfast, all through the afternoon which they spent walking through the park, then at the grocery store, then at the Lima Bean.  They’d spent so much money in one day that _that_ was making Kurt anxious.  He wanted this.  Blaine really, really wanted this.  So why was he holding back?

He couldn’t help it, his mind spinning and grappling in just the way he hated.  “Blaine,” Kurt said in the parking lot of the Lima Bean.  “I was just thinking: you wanted to see that new action movie, right?”

Blaine frowned.  “Another thing?  Kurt, I thought we were gonna—“

“You’re right,” Kurt said, groaning.  Apparently his behavior had been so obtuse even Blaine had caught on.  “We can do that.  We can just go back to the house.  I’m sorry; I’m—“

“Do you not want to do this anymore?” Blaine asked.  “Because we talked about how we both should be sure and if you’re not sure, Kurt, I can wait.”

“I do want to,” Kurt said, and he meant it.  “I just… it’s so big; I’m floundering right now.”

“Floundering?” Blaine said.  “Like the fish?”

“I—no, Blaine,” Kurt said, sighing only a little and definitely at himself.  “I’m—I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” Blaine told him.  “We’ll be together, right?  That’s the point.”

“Yeah,” Kurt affirmed, offering him a small smile.  “Yeah, that’s exactly the point.  Let’s… let’s go.  This is stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Blaine said firmly.  “Not ever.”

Kurt could face-palm right now, because he’d promised himself a million times over never to use that word in front of Blaine.  “Thank you,” he said instead, reaching over the gear shift to take Blaine’s hand and squeeze it.  “Thank you, Blaine… I know.”

***

When they got into the house Kurt took a deep breath and kissed him, and kissed him and kissed him until some of the fluttering, hollow feeling in his stomach melted away.  Blaine’s hands were firm and cold and familiar on his face, his hips, his ass, Blaine’s body an anchor Kurt gladly let himself cling to.

Kurt stepped back and exhaled between them, treasuring the little whine Blaine gave as he pulled away.  Blaine was staring at him, into his eyes, and as much as Kurt loved these moments with Blaine it was too much for him this time, so he squeezed his eyes shut even as he reached for his scarf.

Blaine’s hand caught his wrist, and his eyes blinked open.  “Let me,” Blaine said, and it wasn’t a question.

Kurt froze, because as ridiculous as it was—it was just a scarf, after all, an innocuous, common item that was frequently removed in homes—this felt like The Moment.  How far, how deeply could he let Blaine in? 

Because sex was everything they’d already done, but as foolish and old-fashioned as it was, intercourse was and had always been that line in his mind.  And he’d decided—he’d _planned_ —to cross that line today.  But this held so much more, went so much deeper for him than the intimacy they’d already shared.  He’d done that because it felt good, it was what his body wanted, it was what Blaine wanted and what was expected in a relationship like theirs—and yes, it had brought them closer, and something profound and untouchable in him craved that more than he craved almost anything else.  And he couldn’t imagine this for so long, not with anyone, and now not with anyone else.

This was The Moment, here right now with Blaine.  It wasn’t meant to start here, in the foyer of Blaine’s parent’s home, with unguarded windows mere feet away and the dirt-drip of slush from their boots all over the floor.  But this was _It_.

Kurt pulled his gloves off and reached to touch Blaine’s face, thumb-brush across his cheekbones and the dark wet fan of his lashes and finally his pink-bowed lips. 

He nodded.

Slowly, Blaine began to unfurl the scarf, using the end of it to tug Kurt forward until their lips met.  He hung it reverently, carefully on a hook of the coat rack, then started in on the buttons of Kurt’s coat.  They were big and he tackled them easily, licking his lips every few moments when he glanced up into Kurt’s face.

Once Kurt’s coat was hung and Blaine’s was too, he pulled Kurt impossibly close to smash their mouths together, a mishmash of lips and teeth and tongue.  His hands slid up Kurt’s back, rucking his shirt, until he grew frustrated with that and simply pulled it over his head.  Pants, socks, and underwear were shed by Blaine’s slowly-warming fingers, the process intermingled with the heat of his mouth, until Kurt was standing naked, chest heaving, just behind the front door.

It wasn’t okay, the way this felt, too much too exposed too spontaneous, but Kurt stood there and let Blaine’s adoring gaze and each slide of his palm and each brush of his lips make it better.  Finally he said, voice shaking, “We should go upstairs, Blaine.  Up to your bedroom,” and Blaine beamed and nodded, eager.

Kurt quickly collected his clothing and folded them into a neat pile, which he carried up the stairs with them.

Upstairs the air was warm and sweet-smelling, as it always was in Blaine’s room.  Kurt closed the door, feeling a bit safer in their little haven.  He placed the clothes on Blaine’s dresser and turned into his arms, hands sliding up Blaine’s shirt to find the soft heat of his back as they kissed.  He caught the material as he backed away, tugged, and laid down on the bed as Blaine began to work hastily out of his clothes, flailing limbs and no finesse.

And then Kurt’s body was as consumed as his heart by the squirming, excited whole of this man, touching him with hands and mouth and anything else he could manage.  Long gone was the carefulness of the first time they were together, because Blaine knew he could have Kurt now, that Kurt was his to touch and love and take whenever they were alone together (and not in their dorm room) like this.  And tonight, Blaine would have all of him.

Kurt shivered with that knowledge, let his legs fall apart so Blaine could slot and rut in between, his own hands sliding down to anchor on Blaine’s ass, eyes closed and throat bared and yeah, if they continued this way things were not going to go as planned.  “Blaine,” Kurt said, and again before he actually caught his attention.  Once he had it, he tipped his head toward the nightstand and the bottle of lube he’d lined up there along with condoms, wet wipes, paper towels, regular hand towels, even a couple bottles of water.

Blaine looked at the lube and looked at him, nodded, trying to kiss him as he reached out for it, which didn’t really work.  He snatched up the lube and popped it open, squeezing some onto his fingers before he stopped quite suddenly and met Kurt’s eyes and asked, softly, “Are you sure this is okay?”

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded, spreading his legs a little wider.

The thing about that was that Kurt was 100% okay with doing things this way.  They’d talked about this and it turned out that Blaine was kind of freaked out by the idea of bottoming but _super_ turned on by the idea of fucking Kurt, which was all understandable, really.  And Kurt wanted to; he did.

It just felt like a little bitmore, this way.  And what did it mean, that feeling, when he would give Blaine absolutely anything?

He felt the fleeting press of lips to the base of his cock, his balls, then the cool slick of a fingertip, circling, rubbing, until finally it pressed inside.

Kurt gave a little _“oh”_ and wrinkled his nose.  It felt… odd.  Not particularly bad, really, and it wasn’t enough to hurt.  Just odd.

“Are you okay?” Blaine’s voice drifted over him.  He opened his eyes to look at Blaine, and Blaine looked…

Amazing, amazed, a little breathless-in-awe, staring down at Kurt like he was the most precious thing in the world.  Kurt couldn’t help but smile up at him.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah, I really am.”  He arched up against Blaine’s finger until it slid in further, all the way.

After that, everything began to meld together—things went a little faster or maybe he was just less tuned into them; Kurt wasn’t sure.  All he knew was Blaine, the slow-burning-pleasure-stretch, the rich mosaic of Blaine’s eyes and the slick-heat of their bodies.

“Condom,” Kurt managed to gasp, just as Blaine was about to push in without one.

Condoms were silly and truthfully, Kurt kind of hated the idea of them.  But they were the safe thing, the right thing to do, and Kurt also hated mess.

Blaine nodded and got one of the little packets, only his fingers were too wet, fumbling to rip it open.  Kurt took it from him and did it himself; took Blaine’s cock and stroked it, slid the condom into place.  “There,” he said, pecking Blaine on the lips.  Then, “I should probably turn over.  It’s easier that way.”

He rolled onto his belly, arched his hips up even though it felt ridiculous and archaic.  Blaine’s hands on his waist helped, but only a bit.  “Are you sure you’re o—” Blaine started, but Kurt cut him off.

“Yes, Blaine,” he said.  “Yes, I’m fine.”

A kiss to the base of his spine and then it was too-much blunt pressure, driving in.  “Tight,’ Blaine said, stalling out after an inch or so.

“Yeah,” Kurt said, grateful for the lull in movement.  “Just—slow, Blaine.  Please.”

Blaine did move slower then, thankfully, but pretty much every increment was painful until he’d completely slid inside.  Kurt reached back and held him there, wishing for the pain to dull so he could focus on the moment.  He breathed slow and deep like all the websites said you were supposed to, and eventually the sensation did fade.  It didn’t exactly feel good, not yet, but there was an urge there—an urge for something more.

“Move,” Kurt permitted.  “Slowly.”

He waited and waited and waited for it to feel good, and eventually, almost magically, it did… at least physically.  Emotionally, everything was all-wrong—Blaine’s hand on his stomach, the brace of his arms wasn’t enough.

Kurt hated more than anything to admit that something he’d planned out wasn’t working, but—“Blaine, this umm…”

Blaine stopped, and his weight descended over Kurt’s back until Kurt could feel him, hot breath on his neck and ghosting across his ear.  Better.  “What is it, Kurt?” Blaine asked, sounding so desperately worried, so innocent.  “Are you okay?”

Kurt exhaled in a long burst—air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back.  “This isn’t working, Blaine.  Not this way.  Can we try… like before?”

“Of course,” Blaine said, “of course, Kurt.”

“You’ll, umm,” Kurt said.  “Move for now?  Please?”

Blaine scrambled off of him, and Kurt was surprised at how aching and empty he felt when Blaine slid out.  He flipped over, drew Blaine back down to him for a kiss, his fingers tangling in Blaine’s wayward curls.

Much, much better.  “In me?” Kurt asked, tilting his hips.  “Please?”

Kurt felt the stretch of him even the second time, but this time it felt _right_ , like Kurt was made just for Blaine to fit there.  And he could see Blaine now, touch his face and watch his eyes as he moved, touch his chest and the slight, strained bulge of his biceps and kiss his mouth, and it was better, so much better, only Kurt couldn’t move as much like this, couldn’t move _with_ him, and after a few moments it felt like he was just lying there, letting Blaine do his thing, and that wasn’t right at all.

“Blaine,” Kurt said again.  “Blaine could we… try something different?”

Blaine sighed this time, nearly groaned and bit it back from the sound of it, but his voice was even, concerned.  “Sure, Kurt.  What do you want?”

“I—” he wriggled, until Blaine got the message and moved off of him and to the side.  Kurt gently shoved him over until he was lying flat, then straddled his waist.  “Like this,” he said.  “Would this be okay?”

Blaine met his eyes and nodded a little too enthusiastically, his hands already curling around Kurt’s hips.  “Yes Kurt,” he said.  “ _Please_.”

It took some maneuvering, but finally, _finally_ Kurt was lowering his weight down, bit by bit.  It didn’t necessarily feel better this way, but it was just as good as before, and he _felt_ better.  He could see Blaine fully, reach him, touch him as much as he wanted.

He was in control.

It took some time for them to find a rhythm, but it was so much easier now for Kurt to fall along with it, fall into the feeling of Blaine inside him and the look on his face and the sounds he was making, fall into the spiraling, escalating ecstasy as they found a way to move together that was _just right_ , perfect, their hands latching and fingers tangling as they each in turn tipped over the edge.

When they had no choice but to part, Kurt slid to Blaine’s side, cleaned his chest and stomach and then kissed him there, curling around his body to rest.

“I love you,” Blaine told him, petting his hair.  “So much, Kurt.”

Kurt smiled against his skin.  “I love you too.”

“That was good?” Blaine asked, uncertainty heavy in his voice.

Kurt shifted to meet his eyes.  “Blaine,” he said, “it was fantastic.”

Blaine’s smile could light up the world, and he nodded in agreement.  “We can try it the other way, sometime.  I—I don’t feel so weird about it anymore.  It was silly, anyway.”

“It wasn’t silly.  Being like that with you… it was a lot.  But I’m so glad we did.”  He paused, added, “I think we could try those other positions again sometime, too.  If you’d like that.”

Blaine nodded, bending to kiss Kurt’s forehead, and yeah—being like this, close to him…

It was the _most_ right, the most perfect thing in the world.


	19. Twist

_February 2012_ ~ Twist

Blaine watched them suspiciously: four grown-ups in Ms. Genna’s office, sitting around in a circle and chattering about something to do with _him_.

“Come on in, sweetheart.  Sit down,” Mama said when she noticed his face peeking through the crack of the door.

Obediently, Blaine did so, feeling a tiny bit frightened even though he didn’t know why.  He liked all of these people, trusted them—Mama and Daddy and Ms. Genna and Mrs. Applewood.  He shouldn’t be _scared_.

He wished Kurt was here to hold his hand.

“Why are you all here?” he asked after he’d joined the circle.  They were watching him, all of them, expressions too-kind.  “I’m missing class.  Kurt won’t like it.”

“We were having a meeting, Blaine,” Mama said.  “A very important meeting about you, about your future.  Your teacher will understand.”

_Future_.  Yep, Kurt _definitely_ should be here.  It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest it, but he bit it back, sat quietly and waited, fighting the urge to run from his seat.

“Blaine,” Mrs. Applewood spoke.  “You and I both know how far you’ve come since you came here.  You’ve had your ups and downs, and your academics have improved quite a bit—you’re performing at a seventh-grade level now in almost every subject.  Your behavior and your mood, on the other hand—“

“It’s been good,” Blaine insisted.  “It’s been good since they fixed my medicine!”

The grown-ups looked at each other and avoided looking at him.  Blaine maybe didn’t know a lot, but he knew that meant something bad.

“Blaine,” Ms. Genna said gently.  “You’ve been doing better; it’s true.  But even with us finding the right medications, you still had another hypomanic episode at the end of last month…”

“It was mild!” Blaine said, beginning to panic now.  “You said it was mild!  I even stayed in my room and Kurt stayed with me and we got through it!”

“Be that as it may, Blaine,” Mama said.  “It still happened.  You know that Daddy and I only want the best for you, sweetheart; we—“

“Just tell me,” Blaine interrupted her, tears springing to his eyes.  “Tell me what you’ve all been talking about.”

The women all looked down at their laps, which left Blaine’s father, sighing as he realized his fate, to deliver the news.  “Blaine, we think it would be best if after graduation, you move into a group home.”

“No,” Blaine said.  “No, I wanna stay here.”

“Blaine, you can’t stay here,” Mrs. Applewood said.  “This is a high school, and you’re about to graduate—“

“Then fail me!”

“That’s not an option, and certainly not one you want,” she continued.  “You need to move on, find new opportunities.”

“I want to stay with Kurt!” Blaine all but whined.  He knew he must look horrible right now, face all scrunched up and red in the way Mama used to tease ‘killed his handsome’, but he didn’t care.  He didn’t care; he couldn’t do this; he wanted Kurt.

“Kurt’s not going to be here either, sweetheart.  He’s graduating too,” his mother reminded him.

“Is he going to the group home!?”

They exchanged worried glances— _again_.

“No,” said Mrs. Applewood.  “Not that we know of.  And to be honest, Kurt probably doesn’t need to, Blaine.  But you do.”

“What the fuck do you know!?” Blaine screamed, jumping to his feet.  “You don’t know me!  None of you know me!  You don’t love me!  Only Kurt loves me and he’d never, never do this to me!”  Fists clenching, ugly tears streaming down his face, Blaine made for the door.

“Blaine!” his mother called, jumping up to follow. 

By the time she reached the doorway in her heels, he was down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

***

Blaine’s first thought was to find Kurt, but he didn’t know which class Kurt would be in right now and he couldn’t interrupt class; Kurt would be so mad then and he might want to send Blaine away just like Mama.

But he really, really needed Kurt right now, needed him needed him needed him.  Kurt was gonna be so mad at them.  Kurt wouldn’t let them take him away.  Kurt would find a way to fix it, Blaine was sure of it.

But where _was_ he?  Blaine couldn’t even think straight to know what time it was right now, let alone where Kurt would be in his schedule.

Schedule, schedule, schedule—their entire life was a schedule and Blaine couldn’t disrupt it, he _couldn’t_!  Kurt would be so mad.

Hardly paying attention to where he was going, Blaine somehow ended up in their room.  He slammed the door behind him, latched it, pushed a desk chair up in front of it just in case because who knew if they would try to find him?  He threw himself onto Kurt’s bed, breathing deep the scent of Kurt’s pillow and clutching Rex to his chest.

He had to wait for Kurt, had to wait until 3 o’clock, and that was all.  He just had to wait.  He just had to lie here and cry and wait and Kurt would come and he would make it all better…

It was only a few minutes before a knock sounded at the door.  “Blaine?”  It was Mama.  “Blaine, sweetheart, please come out.  We can talk about this.  You’ll see; we found you a really great place, lovely.  You’ll adore it there!”

Blaine stopped breathing, didn’t move until she went away.

He curled around Rex and cried and shook and muttered Kurt’s name until eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

***

_Knock, knock, knock_.  “Blaine!  Blaine, are you in there?  It’s me; it’s—please let me in, honey.  _Please_.”

Blaine jerked awake with a start.  That was _Kurt’s_ voice, close so close and he wanted him here, next to him, _now_.

Hurriedly, he removed the chair, unlatched the door and opened it, launching himself into Kurt’s arms.

Kurt held him, rubbed his back, kissed his forehead and muttered, _it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay_ , over and over and over again into Blaine’s ear until finally, his chest felt lighter and his breath stopped hitching and things began to feel a little bit okay again.

_It’s okay._ Kurt never lied.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine cried, “Kurt, they want to take me away from you!  They want to take me away to a new home without you and I don’t want to go you can’t let them!”

“Shh,” Kurt said.  “Let’s go lie down again, okay?”

He managed to maneuver them back onto his bed without Blaine letting go, holding him tight so tight that it was almost as tight as Blaine needed, running his fingers through Blaine’s hair until the curls loosened, and Blaine _loved_ Kurt, loved him so much, he needed this needed them together and why, why, why would Mama want to rip them apart?  Mama was supposed to _love_ him.

“They want me to go to a group home,” Blaine said.  “Kurt, I don’t even know what a group home is!  But I don’t want to go.  I want to stay with you.”

“I know.  I know all about it, sweetheart.  When they couldn’t find you they came and got me out of class, wanted me to come and calm you down for them.”

“That’s why you’re here?” Blaine said, twist-squeeze of pain in his chest at the thought that Kurt might be working with _them_.

“No.  No, of course not.  I said you texted me to let me know where you were, and you were fine, and I had to finish classes.  Eventually, they left.”

“You lied!?” Blaine said.

Kurt chuckled.  “Greater good, sweetheart.  It was the right thing to do.  And besides, I did know you’d be here.  And I did have classes.  It was a half-lie at best.”

“You lied for _me_ ,” Blaine pointed out, even though he knew it was childish.

“Yes,” Kurt said, “and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.  The thing is, Blaine, they still think you’re theirs.  They think you’ll always be theirs because of the way you are.  They think they can do what they want with you because they know what’s best.”

“You’re what’s best,” Blaine said.  “I’m yours, Kurt.”

“Of course you are.  And I’m yours.  And more importantly, you’re your own person.  You’re an adult.  You should get a say in how you want to spend the rest of your life.”

“I want to spend it with you,” Blaine said.  He didn’t even have to think about it.  “I want to be with you always, Kurt.  Don’t let them take me away.”

Kurt sighed.  “Look at me,” he said, waiting for Blaine to meet his eyes.  “I _promise_ you Blaine: I am doing everything in my power to give you that option, okay?  I have a plan.  I want us to be together too.  I—I would never lie to you.  I would never let them just take you, okay?  You have to believe me.”

“I do,” Blaine said simply, hugging Kurt’s waist, nuzzling his face into his favorite spot on Kurt’s neck.  “But—you’re going away to college.”

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath.  “If you want me?  Then I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Do you mean it?” Blaine asked.  It was everything he wanted, everything he wanted to believe. 

“I mean it,” Kurt swore.

“Tell me your plan,” Blaine begged.  “Please, Kurt, I need to hear it.  And I want you to tell Mama.”

Kurt kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips.  “We’ll tell your mama together.  And… I’m still waiting, Blaine, for it to be perfect.  But it involves you and me, and yes, college, and the rest of our lives.  Is that enough for you?”

Feeling calmer now, Blaine nodded his head.  His eyes cleared and fell to the clock.  “It’s almost study time,” he said.  “Six more minutes.”

“That’s six more minutes to hold you, then.  Not to mention the rest of our lives.”

Blaine hummed, content to be here in Kurt’s arms where it always felt like he belonged.  He could definitely spend the rest of his life like this because it was really, really his very favorite thing.  And he was pretty sure Kurt would forever be his very favorite person.  And Kurt was going to take care of things, now.  Kurt loved him and he _promised_.

Kurt never lied… especially not to Blaine.


	20. Uniform

_March 2012_ ~ Uniform

They were fifteen minutes early—exactly as planned—when Kurt pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine.  Blaine was asleep in the passenger’s seat, looking heart-breakingly adorable as usual, and Kurt was almost grateful when he began to stir because he couldn’t bear the thought of waking him.

He reached over to tuck a stray curl back into place, fingers brushing softly against Blaine’s forehead.  “Did you have a nice nap?” he asked.

Blaine yawned, stretching his arms up until they banged against the roof of the car.  “Yes,” he answered, finally blinking his bright hazel eyes in Kurt’s direction.  “Where are we?  Are you gonna tell me now?”

Kurt smiled.  “We’re in Westerville,” he said.

Blaine startled at that.  “We’re home?” he asked, looking around.  Then, “This isn’t home.  But it looks kinda familiar.”

“Does it?” Kurt pointed to a sign sitting a little ways off in the grass.  “Have you been here before?”

“Otterbein,” Blaine read.  “Like the college?”

“Do you know of any other Otterbein in Westerville?  In Ohio?”

“No,” Blaine breathed.  His voice was a little higher, a little hopeful, when he spoke again.  “Why are we here, Kurt?”

Kurt took a deep breath.  He’d been planning this in secret for so long that it felt strange to confess it now.  “We’re here because they just sent me my acceptance letter.  We’re here because—if you’re okay with it, if everything works out today—I’m going to go to school here.  We’re here because I wanted you to see it, to help me decide once and for all, and even though I should have visited before I applied, I wanted to see it for the first time with you.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine said, in that way he had.  Sometimes Kurt thought he could listen to Blaine saying his name forever and never tire of it.  That was silly, though, because how would he be able to work or to study?  “I—what about New York?  Chicago?  Los Angeles?  You wanted a big city.”

Kurt shrugged.  “I want you more.  And I could try to drag you there, Blaine, but I don’t think we’re ready for that.  I don’t think _I’m_ even ready for that.  This is a private college; it’s relatively small.  I think this could be more my speed, don’t you?”

Blaine shook his head as though in disbelief.  “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he said, and opened his door.

Beaming, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic, Kurt followed suit.

***

“Well?” Kurt said once they’d finished for the afternoon.  “What do you think?”

“The campus is beautiful,” Blaine said.  “The people are nice.”

Kurt chuckled nervously.  “And—”

“And what do you think?  It’s what you think that really matters, Kurt.”

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself.  “I think I could maybe actually find a way to belong here, if I tried,” he said.

“We’re very good at trying,” Blaine said, taking his hand.

“Yes,” Kurt agreed.  “Yes we are.  This feels… it feels _right_.”

“So this was your plan all along?  Staying here, near my parents?  Because Kurt, there’s still the group home, and—”

“Blaine,” Kurt said, shaking his head mockingly.  “Oh ye of little faith.  Of _course_ it’s not my entire plan!  What do you say you and me go and get some ice cream, and we can talk about it there?”

“Ice cream!?” Blaine’s eyes got big.  “ _You’re_ going to eat ice cream, Kurt?”

“It’s a special occasion,” Kurt argued, then added more softly, “I feel good today, hmm?  So yes ice cream, if that would make you happy?”

“Ice cream makes me so, so happy, Kurt.  All the time!”

Kurt smiled at Blaine smiling—it really was a good day. 

He hated to ruin it.

***

They ended up at an old-fashioned ice cream parlor Blaine spotted off the side of the road.  Fortunately, they were modern enough to have nonfat, no-sugar-added strawberry cheesecake frozen yogurt for Kurt.  Blaine of course ordered a banana split which was nearly as big as his head, but he looked so delighted about it that Kurt forked over the money with only a little reluctance, unable to find it in himself to protest.

They chatted about the school and the tour guide and what majors Kurt was considering until their desserts were halfway gone, and then Kurt simply couldn’t hide from the unfortunate truth any longer.

“Blaine,” he said, sad half-smile.  “I talked to your parents yesterday.  For a good long while.”

Blaine froze.  “What did you talk about?” he asked.  “What did they say?”

“I told them about my plan.  I told them that we wanted to stay together; that I was going to do everything in my power to take care of you, but…”

“But…” Blaine prompted.

“But they still want you to live in a group home.  They did show me a brochure.  At least it’s a nice, higher-class group home.”

Blaine shrugged.  “I’m not surprised,” he said, shoveling down another heaping spoonful of ice cream and banana.

Kurt cringed.  “I’m afraid it gets worse.”

“How could it get—”

“Blaine, they mentioned filing for guardianship.”

Blaine’s face fell.  “I don’t know what that means,” he whispered.

Kurt sighed.  “It means… it means they want to petition the government to continue to give them a say in your life.  It means that you would lose some of your rights and freedoms as an adult, because they would tell the court you aren’t able to take care of yourself.   It means they might be able to force you to live in a group home.”

“But you promised, Kurt.  You promised I could stay with you!  You can take care of me.”  He straightened in his seat, lifting his chin in the air.  “I can take care of myself.”

Despite the seriousness of their circumstances, Kurt had to force back a laugh.  “Blaine,” he said evenly.  “You have ice cream on your nose.”

“I—oh,” Blaine said, and grabbed his already-filthy napkin, trying to wipe it off.  He only managed to smear chocolate syrup across his cheek.

Kurt did giggle then.  “Here,” he said.  “Let me.”  He dabbed his own spotless napkin into his water cup and leaned across the table, carefully cleaning the mess from Blaine’s face.  “There,” he declared.  “Handsome as ever.” 

They locked eyes, gleeful in the moment, but then Kurt felt the smile slowly fading from his face.  “Blaine, this isn’t over,” he told him.  “You have options.  I’ve done a lot of research.  First of all, there has to be a hearing about this, which you—and myself, for that matter—can attend.  You can argue.  We can gather evidence to present and everything.  Or…”

“Or…”

“Or I could file too.  We could try to get them to grant guardianship to me, although I think that would be the more difficult route, given my age and my… my _problems_.”

They sat for a moment, Kurt watching Blaine’s face as he appeared to think it over.

“We’re in this together, right?” he said finally.

Wondering where he was going with this, Kurt nodded.

“I’m an adult too.  I may need you to take care of me, but I can take care of you too.  I can, Kurt.  I don’t want anyone to have ‘guardianship’ over me, not even you.”

Kurt smiled at him.  “You’re such a fighter, aren’t you?  So brave…”

Blaine flushed.  “I just try.  That’s our thing, right?  Trying.”

Kurt nodded.  “So what are you going to do then?” he asked, half-teasing.  “How are you going to take care of me?”

“You’re gonna be in school, right?  So I’ll get a job.  I’ll make the money.”

“Hmm,” Kurt acknowledged.  “And what kind of job would you like?”

Blaine thought about it for a moment as he scraped the last remnants of ice cream out of his dish, sucking the droplets off his spoon in a way that made it necessary for Kurt to cross his legs and look away.

“I could be an ice cream man,” he said at last. 

Kurt glanced over to the front of the parlor, where a teenager dressed in white slacks, a red-striped shirt, a stained white apron and a bright red bowtie was wiping down the counter.  “The uniform would suit you,” he mused, turning back meet Blaine’s eyes.  “Totally sexy.”

Twelve minutes later when they left the shop, Blaine had an application form clutched in one hand.  “Do you really think they’ll even consider me?” he asked Kurt as they climbed back into the car.

“I don’t know, Blaine.  Honestly.  But Columbus is a large city; someplace is bound to.  And there are laws, programs that can help you with that.  We’re almost fortunate, in a way.  Because of my mental illness, I was able to get close to a full scholarship.  There are ways for us.  There is help.”

“And we have each other.”

“Yes,” Kurt agreed, placing his hand over Blaine’s where it rested on his knee.  “We will _always_ have that.”


	21. Vacation

_April 2012_ ~ Vacation

Blaine sat awkwardly, silently, tapping his toe against the foot of his chair.

“I can’t make you talk to me,” Ms. Genna said, for probably the fourth or fifth time.  “But something went wrong here, and it would be good for us to work it out, Blaine.  I know it’s been a long time since we saw each other last, but I had hoped things would look a little better when I was finally able to return to work.”

“I was glad!” Blaine burst out.  “I was glad you went on vacation because I don’t want to talk to you.  I wish you didn’t come back!”

“Vacation”—she chuckled, patting her much-flatter belly—“that’s an interesting way to put it.  Okay then, so you’re still angry with me over our meeting about the group home, am I right?”

“Yes,” Blaine said begrudgingly.  “And congratulations.”

She smiled at him warmly.  “Thank you, Blaine.  Now, getting back to you—if you’re not ready to talk about what happened two months ago, how about you fill me in on what you worked on with Mr. Bently?  He’s told me a little bit, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

Blaine squirmed in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  Why did she have to be so _nice_?  He really wanted to hate her and not talk to her ever again, but Ms. Genna had this annoying way of getting people to talk when they really didn’t want to.  “We worked some more on awareness stuff,” he allowed.  “He said it would be good for letting me know when I’m getting into an episode.”

“That’s good, Blaine.  Anything else?”

“He explained to me about what a group home is,” Blaine admitted.  “He knows more than Kurt, even though Kurt looked it up on Google.”

“Would you be willing to tell me about the kinds of things you learned?” she asked.

“Fine,” Blaine all but spit.  “It—um—it’s like here, I guess, only without the school part.  Just a big house.  The one my mom and dad wanna send me to actually looks pretty nice.  But I _do not_ want to live there!”

“Where would you like to live, Blaine?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then caught himself and abruptly closed it.  “I’m not telling you that.  I told you; I don’t want to talk about any of this stuff with _you_.”

“Fair enough,” Ms. Genna said, holding her palms up in the air.  “But I stand by what I said before—I think it would be good for both of us to talk about our issues.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes at her.  “Issues!?  Is that what you call it?”

Ms. Genna beamed.  “That’s one word.  Is there another you’d prefer?”

Blaine scoffed.  “It doesn’t matter.  None of this matters.  In a couple of months I’ll be gone and I’ll never have to see you again.”

“Yes,” she said.  “That would be a good thing to talk about too.”

Frustrated, Blaine threw his hands up in the air.  “Why are you playing games with me?” he cried.  “What do you _want_?”

“What do I usually want?”  She was smiling still, leaning toward him with her face propped on her hand propped on her elbow, and Blaine stared at her weird spikey blonde hair and her thick-framed purple glasses and he really, really wanted to punch her right now, only not really because she was a girl.

“You want to know how I feel.  Well, that should be obvious!  How would you feel if I went behind your back and—and made plans that I knew you would hate and tried to control _your_ life, hmm!?”

“You’re angry.  You feel that I betrayed you.”

“I—yes!” Blaine declared.  “But I don’t want to talk about it with you.  I don’t trust you anymore.”

“What do you think it was that I did, exactly, that hurt your trust?”

Blaine thought about it for a moment.  “You _know_.  I told you how I feel about Kurt.  And you—you want to take me away from him.”

“When did I say anything about taking you away from Kurt?  I don’t remember that being a part of our discussion.”

“It—” Blaine stopped himself because he realized she was actually right—Kurt had never been mentioned at all.  “Kurt and I are going to live together,” he said instead.  “That’s all we want, and you can’t stop us.”

“Ahh, so there’s my answer,” she said, and Blaine _groaned_.  “You don’t want to live in a group home because you want to live with Kurt.  And you’re angry with me because you feel that in supporting your parents’ decision to send you to a group home, I’m not supporting your own plans for the future, and also that I’m not supporting your relationship.”

Blaine rubbed his temples.  “Too fast,” he said.

“Alright.  Take a moment, then.  Think.”

She waited patiently, watching him, and slowly her words sank in.  Of course she was right, right as always; Ms. Genna was right almost more often than Kurt was and right now that kind of sucked, because he was still mad at her.

Or he wanted to be, anyway.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” he finally admitted, voice small.

He was grateful when she didn’t rub it in like Cooper always did when he was right, or even like Kurt sometimes when he was feeling frustrated with Blaine.  Instead she nodded and said, “I’d love to hear about the plans you have with Kurt,” so earnestly that he actually told her.

He told her _everything_ —all the details he and Kurt talked about all the time during _Kurt and Blaine time_.  The little apartment they’d get and the king-sized bed they were going to cram into the bedroom and the puppy (even though Kurt hadn’t agreed to that part yet) and how Blaine was going to try to find a job.

When he finished, he was nearly breathless.

“That’s… quite a plan,” she said.  “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

Blaine nodded, feeling proud of himself, of her praise.  “We have.”

“And yet, this is the first I’m hearing of any of this.”

Blaine felt his face flush, and he ducked his head.  “Kurt’s been planning, but he didn’t tell me until a month ago.  So many details.  You know how he is.”

“I know what you’ve told me,” she agreed.  “But my point is—Blaine, I didn’t know any of this two months ago when your parents approached me about the group home.  I didn’t know you were even thinking about the future.  And I’m pretty sure they didn’t either, or that was the impression they’d given me.”

“I—I wasn’t really thinking about it.  Kurt was.  But now I am too.  We’re trying.”

“I know,” Ms. Genna told him.  “You’re trying really hard, Blaine, and I’ve been seeing that.”

“My parents still want me to go to the group home,” Blaine blurted out.  “Kurt talked to them, and—and everything, and they still want to send me.  He says they’re filing for guardianship.”

Ms. Genna frowned.  “That’s a big step, Blaine.  Guardianship is a very serious legal decision.”

“I know,” Blaine said.  “Kurt told me, but—will you help me?  Please help me.  You act like you care and you said I can trust you and—and I don’t want to go there,” to his horror, he felt tears welling up in his eyes.  “I want to live with Kurt.  I don’t care how nice it is.  I want him.”

Ms. Genna seemed to think for a few moments, handing him a box of tissues, which he took gratefully, turning away from her to wipe at his eyes.

“Blaine,” Ms. Genna began gently.  “There are ways I may be able to help, but this—this is a very serious thing, okay?  I think all of us—myself, your parents, Kurt, and the other people at school—we _all_ care about you and want what’s best for you.  I don’t have to tell you that your condition can be outright dangerous at times, and I can understand why your parents might be concerned about you living with Kurt and might want you somewhere where there are more experienced people to help.  That’s a very big responsibility for someone his age, and both of you are already going to have enough responsibilities just starting your lives as adults.”

“But—” Blaine began, but she held up her hand for him to stop.

“I’m not saying I disagree with you living with Kurt, or that I think the group home is a good idea.  I didn’t tell your parents that either, for the record.  I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again; I’m not here to take sides or to tell you what to do.  I’m here to help you decide what it is _you_ want, and to guide you in becoming as capable as you can be.”

“I want Kurt,” Blaine insisted.  Everything felt like so much right now, and he didn’t know what to do about it anymore, and Blaine hated that feeling, being the one who was helpless.

“I know, Blaine.  I know you do.  But the best thing I can tell you is… you need to talk to your parents yourself.  Sometimes when you’re an adult and you get young people telling you they’re an adult, you don’t believe that.  Sometimes older people can’t see it.  But you know what can be more powerful than words?  Showing them.”

“But how do I show them if they won’t let me try!  If they want to lock me up somewhere and—and—“

“Blaine,” Ms. Genna said calmly.  “Think about this for a moment: how do you think an adult would handle this kind of situation?”

“They’d talk about it,” he admitted reluctantly, knowing and hating that _that_ was the right answer.  “But Kurt already talked to them, and—“

“Blaine.  I thought you were an adult too, not just Kurt.”

Blaine slumped back in his seat and sighed.  “I don’t know how,” he confessed quietly.  “Kurt’s so—so smart and mature and he acts like a grown-up.  I don’t know how to be like that.”

To his surprise, Ms. Genna only smiled again, sitting back in her seat and studying his face.  “ _That_ ,” she said.  “That is something I can help you work on.”

***

There were no more school vacations until the end of the year, but Blaine made it a point to get to his parent’s house on his own instead of calling them to come pick him up.  (Okay, so he got Kurt to drop him off, but it was still his idea!)

For the first time in his life, he stood outside his house on the colorful welcome mat… and _knocked_.

“Blaine!” his mother declared when she answered the door, clearly shocked.  “Blaine what are you—how did you—” She looked around for Kurt, but Kurt was blocks away by now, probably.  He had promised to find something to do for at least the next hour.  “Come in,” she finally said, tugging him through the door by his elbow.

Blaine straightened his back and squared his shoulders and looked her right in the eye.  “Where’s Daddy?” he asked.  “We need to talk.”


	22. Wedding

_May 2012_ ~ Wedding

Kurt smoothed the lapels of his suit, took a deep breath, and walked through the doorway.  The little bell jingled, assuring that the pretty, middle-aged woman standing behind the counter took notice of him right away.  “Hello,” she said, offering him a smile.  “Welcome to the Cheesecake Boutique.  Is there something I can help you with?”

He straightened his posture, reached down deep for his confidence, and said—“Yes, actually.  My name is Kurt Hummel, and I’m here to convince you to hire me.”

Her smile faltered.  “That’s very sweet, but I’m afraid I have all the employees I need for right now.  Sometimes I hire new clerks for the summer, but I already have those positions filled for the year.”

“I’m not here because I want to be a clerk.  I’m no clerk.”  He paused briefly then pushed forward, approaching the counter as he spoke.  “I’m a designer.  And I have my portfolio right here to prove it.”  Kurt lifted the heavy scrapbook into the air.  “I sew too.  I can do repairs, alterations, embroidery, whatever you need.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re very talented, young man.  But I’ve built this business up from nothing, and I’ve always done all the designs myself.”

“I know,” Kurt said.  “You’re the best in this city, which is why I came straight to you.  Just—please, take a look.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” she muttered, and took the binder from him.

Kurt watched as she flipped through the pages.  “I’ve put together many of the designs you see there, and I have a few of them hanging in my car.  I also put my resume in the back so you know my… situation.  No secrets.  No lies.”

“This is impressive,” she commented, one finger air-tracing the sketch of a dress.

“There’s men’s too, further back.  I know you don’t sell men’s clothing now, but I thought maybe it was time for an expansion.”

“Look, Mr.— ”

“Hummel,” Kurt supplied, “Kurt Hummel.”

“Your designs are stunning, and I’m sure the samples you brought are too.  But I just can’t take anybody on like this, not out of the blue.”

“I understand,” Kurt said, the sinking feeling in his stomach intensifying.  He wished he could sink with it, right through the floor.  “Just—please, take my resume.  Give me a call if anything changes.”

“I can do that,” she said, nodding, accepting the piece of paper.  She tucked it into a drawer behind the counter, and Kurt wondered if she’d ever bother to look at it again.  “You’re a very persistent young man, Kurt Hummel.  Talented.  Don’t give up, alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, stumbling backwards.  “Sure.  Thank you for your time.”

He hurried out of the store, refusing to look back, blinking away the hot tears that were gathering in the corners of his eyes.

It had been a long shot to begin with; he’d known that.  There were other boutiques.

He would keep trying.  Trying is what he _did_.

***

Kurt had been looking forward to apartment hunting, had had it worked into their weekend schedule for the past three weeks, ever since Blaine had barraged him with the exciting news that he’d talked to his parents, and they had decided to drop the guardianship petition and support them—reluctantly at first, yes, but they were going to give them a chance.

All had gone as planned until he’d been shut down at the shop.  It was only one small piece of the puzzle—Kurt knew that logically—but he couldn’t help but feel a little less excited now… and a lot more anxious.  Which was difficult, because Blaine, oblivious, was still on cloud nine.

He’d commandeered Kurt’s computer for the sole purpose of doing endless google searches for available apartments, and it was beginning to grate on Kurt’s nerves.  Kurt had already bookmarked all of the units that were within their price range, within a reasonable distance from the school, and met his (admittedly long) list of demands.

Blaine seemed to like everything: including apartments that were too far away, far too expensive, and absolutely anything that had a pool and permitted dogs.

Today it only went on for about five minutes before Kurt had had enough, closed the laptop and yanked it out of Blaine’s hands.  “Okay, enough of that.  I’ve told you fifty times already; I’ve already selected several acceptable apartments for us to view.  Tomorrow.  Right now, it’s almost study time.”

Blaine’s face fell, and he looked at the clock.  “We have twelve more minutes, Kurt.”

“Yes, well.  Free time is a good time to study too.  Finals, Blaine.”

“I don’t have any finals.”

“Yes, well, _I_ do!” Kurt all but yelled.  He sighed.  “I’m sorry, Blaine, I—“

“—won’t tell me what’s wrong,” Blaine finished for him.  Then he scooted back on his bed, opening his arms up wide.  “Cuddles, Kurt?”

Kurt couldn’t help but smile.  As annoying as Blaine could be, he was at least twice as adorable.  It was an ever-endearing balance.  “Sure, sweetheart,” he acquiesced, climbing onto the bed and into Blaine’s arms.  “For another eleven minutes, anyway.”

***

The next day they were up bright and early—an hour earlier than usual, to be precise—and took breakfast to go as they piled into Kurt’s car and headed for Columbus.  The ride was relatively peaceful, actually, with Blaine happily occupied with the radio and Kurt only somewhat reluctantly joining him in singing his favorite songs.

And then they got to the first place—5 minutes early—and their real estate agent was late.  A lot late.  Ten whole minutes late.  And Kurt was just about to snap at the woman when she began explaining about a family emergency, and Blaine said, ever polite, “I’m so sorry to hear that.  Are you sure you’re okay to be here?” and Kurt thought: she had _better_ say yes.

She did, and Kurt breathed a little easier when she led them up the stairs to view the unit.

But then it was wrong, all wrong.  It did not look like the pictures.  It was not clean, and the kitchen was far too cramped, and the yard it had boasted turned out to be a tiny sixteen-foot box.

Blaine thought it was wonderful, of course.  Blaine thought every place they saw thereafter was wonderful, while Kurt found something wrong every time—a leaky faucet in the bathroom.  Carpets that desperately needed replaced.  A faulty air conditioning system, a bedroom that looked like it wouldn’t fit a twin let alone a King, a place that was too-close to a popular bar.

“I don’t know what you want,” Blaine finally began to whine.  “We’ve seen at least three places that were perfect for us, Kurt, and if you keep going on this way we won’t have anywhere to live, and then I’ll have to live in the group home, and—“

“—don’t be ridiculous, Blaine,” Kurt snapped.  “You are _not_ moving to a group home.”

“We could live with my parents,” Blaine mused.

“Not remotely an option.”

“We could—”

“Alright, then,” the real estate agent interrupted them with false cheer.  “This is the second-to-last place you had on your list, Mr. Hummel, and if these final two still aren’t to your satisfaction, I’m certain we can keep trying.”

“Great,” Kurt said, his words completely lacking enthusiasm.  “We have”—he glanced at his watch—“approximately nine minutes before we have to be leaving for the day, so here’s hoping for a miracle.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine chastised, taking his hand.

To his credit, Kurt didn’t let go.  He squeezed Blaine’s fingers tightly—too-tight, probably, but Blaine didn’t complain.

He just wanted this to go _right_.  Logically, he knew that lots of things had been going right, but this—their perfect apartment together—it was part of the plan, just like landing the right job was part of the plan, and he’d already failed at that.

“This is really, super neat,” Blaine said.  Kurt followed him through the doorway—and stopped, taking the place in.

They were standing in the living room, small but cozy-looking, sunlight streaming in from large windows set into two of the walls.  Just past that, Kurt could see a kitchen—also not very big, but it was set up nicely, with plenty of counter space.  There was an open bar-style counter with three round stools that adjoined the living room, making the space seem bigger, and if they tried, Kurt thought they could probably fit a small table off to one side.

“There’s a pantry tucked in here,” the agent said, opening a half-door set into the wall across from the kitchen, revealing several shelves that were just deep enough to provide plenty of space but also keep everything in reach.

“The walls are white,” Kurt remarked.

The agent smiled at them.  “Yes, but as long as you don’t go crazy with the colors, the landlord’s okay with paint.”

“Hmph,” Kurt said, and let her lead them down the hall.

There were three doors set into the end of the hallway, and she led them first into the door on the right.  “This is the master bedroom.  There’s a door that leads into the bath.”

She stepped aside, and Kurt watched as Blaine’s face lit up in a grin.  “Wow, Kurt—there’s a _window seat_!”

“It’s nice,” Kurt acknowledged, “and big.”

There were large closets lining one wall, and plenty of space for the bed he envisioned plus a few other pieces of furniture to boot.  Kurt startled when he realized he was already laying out and decorating the space in his mind.

“Have a peek into the bathroom,” the agent suggested.

The bathroom was a decent size too, clean and unremarkable with a standard shower/tub combination and no window, thank goodness.  “Acceptable.  You said there’s another bedroom?”

“Yes, this is a two-bedroom unit.”

They viewed the other somewhat smaller bedroom, Blaine practically hopping up and down in excitement.  “You could turn this into a study, Kurt.  Or a guest room.  We can put our computers in here and have a joint office and…”

“Woah, boy,” he told Blaine, then turned to the agent.  “Is there anything else we should know?”

“There’s a washer and dryer in here,” she said, opening a closet that stuck out from the bedroom wall to show him.  And we bypassed a coat closet on the way in.  Let me think”—she paused for a moment—“you have a small deck out back, but the yard is shared with the neighbors.  No HOA, though; it’s included in your rent.”

“Which is?” Kurt asked.  “It’s funny; I don’t remember putting this place on my list.”

Blaine flushed.  “I, umm, I may have added it,” he admitted.

“Did you?” Kurt said, but it lacked the sarcastic bite he’d been exhibiting for most of the day.  “How far is it from Otterbein?”

“I’ll have to double-check,” the agent answered, “but it should be about a 5-10 minute drive, depending on traffic.  Rent is $650 a month, plus electric.”

“That’s a little steeper than we wanted, but not unreasonable,” Kurt mused.  “Okay.”

“Okay?” Blaine said, visibly surprised.

“Well, I’ll have to look over the details first, of course, but if you like it—“

“I love it, Kurt.  I love it.  So much.”

“Then we’ll tentatively say… yes.”

Before Kurt could gauge what was happening, he had his arms full of Blaine.  “Thank you, Kurt.  Thank you.  This will be perfect, and I’ll let you decorate everything, and there’s no fee for a dog as long as it’s under thirty-five pounds, and—“

“Dog?” Kurt said, but made no other comment.  Their decision was beginning to settle, sink in, and he couldn’t help but find Blaine’s enthusiasm infectious.   “I think it would be best if we decorate together, though, don’t you?”

Blaine planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.  “You are the absolute best,” he said, and Kurt couldn’t help it: he kissed him right on the lips, deep and lingering.

Even the agent was smiling at them now.

“I want paperwork with all the details,” he told her.  “As promptly as possible.”  Kurt looked at his watch.  “For now, we really need to go, because we’re running late.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Hummel,” she said.

Kurt was forced to drag Blaine out to the car practically still attached to him.  By the time they got back to the school, they were going to be half an hour late for study time, and they hadn’t even eaten yet, but somehow, that didn’t bother him so much at the moment.

“We’re going to have a house, Kurt!” Blaine said.  “A whole house together!”

Kurt chuckled.  “It’s an apartment, Blaine,” he reminded him.

“But it’s going to be our home!  And we’ll make it really pretty, won’t we Kurt?  And you can put our schedule up on the fridge for every day.  And I can make you pancakes every morning—”

“Do you even know how to cook?”

“No,” Blaine said, “except for peanut butter and jelly.  But Mama will teach me.”

“I can’t eat pancakes every morning regardless.  It’s not healthy.”

“I’ll make them whole grain.”

“Well, in that case,” Kurt glanced over at Blaine as they stopped at a light.  “I love you,” he said, unable to help himself.

Blaine beamed at him.  “I love you too!”

They fell silent for a few moments, and it wasn’t until Kurt was driving again, his attention back on the road, that Blaine spoke.

“Kurt,” he said.  “Now that we’re going to have a house and a dog and, like, jobs and stuff—”

“A dog?” Kurt interrupted.  “Dogs are messy, Blaine.  And they don’t follow schedules very well.  And it could get into our bed, and our food, and tear up the couch, and chew on my shoes—”

“Do you think we could maybe have a wedding too?  Not now, maybe, but someday.  Because I’ve always loved weddings and well, I love you, and I think it would be really, really great to have a wedding together.  Someday.”

Kurt smiled into the rearview mirror, reaching over to squeeze Blaine’s hand.  “Someday can’t come quickly enough.”


	23. Year

_June 2012_ ~ Year

Graduation day was definitely the best day of Blaine’s life… except for maybe the day that Kurt had agreed to date him, or the day when Kurt had first said _I love you_ , or that day when Kurt…

Okay, maybe it’s wasn’t _the_ best.  But it was one of his very favorite days all the same.

After the ceremony he stood next to Kurt and beamed and let Mama and Daddy and Cooper and Carole take lots and lots of pictures, until Kurt’s smile turned into more of a grimace.

He wanted all the pictures of this day he could get, because he had Kurt and he had a diploma and he had his family and they were like, officially grown-ups now with their very own apartment where they would be moving in just a few days, and Blaine could hardly wait.

This was definitely the very best year… so far, anyway.

***

It took all of their relatives and several hours, but Kurt and Blaine finally had all of their stuff in their apartment, and they were alone.  Now Blaine sat on the couch eating pizza—which Kurt refused to touch because _grease_ —while Kurt ran around fussing with this and that, trying to get everything in perfect order.

“I just don’t know, Blaine, if the TV should go here”—he pointed to one corner of the room, then another—“or over there.  It’s really not ideal either place, and of course we’re going to have to move everything and cover everything when we paint and—Oh! ” he finished, when his phone began ringing loudly from where he’d left it in the kitchen.  Blaine watched as he stretched across the dividing counter to retrieve it.  “Not a number I know; maybe it’s the financial aid office calling…Hello, Kurt Hummel speaking.”

Blaine waited, listening to every second of the conversation, staring as Kurt’s eyes slowly grew bigger and bigger until finally he said, “Yes!  Yes, of course I am!”

“What were you thinking?”

“I can definitely handle that, ma’am.  Yes, I can come down tomorrow… afternoon, hmm.  How’s 3 o’clock?  Perfect.  Thank you so, so much.  You have no idea what this means to me!”

As if in a daze, Kurt hit the end button, slowly placing the phone back on the counter and rotating to address Blaine.  “Blaine,” he said.  “That was the owner of the Cheesecake Boutique.”

“What’s the Cheesecake Boutique?” Blaine asked.  “Do they sell cheesecake?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head.  “No, they sell clothing.  They’re going to sell _my_ clothing.  Just on a trial basis to start, but… they’re also taking me on as a tailor, part-time and as needed.  It’s going to be crazy having to adjust my hours every week, but…”

Blaine beamed at him.  “You have a job!”

“Yes,” Kurt said.  “Blaine, I have a job!  And not just any job.  I went there first and they turned me down, so I applied to a bunch of other stores, but… this was the plan, Blaine.  The original plan.  And it’s all actually coming true!”

“Come here,” Blaine said, patting the empty space beside him.  “Sit.”

“Blaine!  What did I tell you about touching the furniture with pizza-fingers!  From now on, you only eat at the counter.  Or the table, once we get one.”  But he came over, and he sat, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder.  “We’re here,” he mused softly.  “We’re actually here, together.  I had it all planned out, but to actually _be_ here, to have gotten this far…”

“ _I’m_ not surprised,” Blaine said.  “You’re amazing,Kurt.  You can do like, anything.”

“ _We_ can do anything,” Kurt corrected.  “And that’s not even remotely true, Blaine… but it’s sweet of you to say it all the same.  I—I know we still have a long road ahead of us.  We’ll have to take it one day at a time which, you know, I’m not the best at…”

“We’ll have to keep trying,” Blaine said.  “If you keep trying 100%, and I keep trying 100%, it can work.  Or at least that’s what Ms. Genna said, which, I don’t really get that because it doesn’t actually add up, but,” he shrugged.

“I’ll keep trying,” Kurt said, shifting to look at him, taking his hand and then wincing when he realized how messy it was.  But he didn’t let go.  “I promise you that I’ll never stop, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Blaine echoed.  He sighed.  “I’m gonna miss Ms. Genna.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agreed.  “I’m going to miss Mrs. Faber.  And Mr. Francis, and, well—all of them, really.  Are you—are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Maybe… Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Blaine,” Kurt said.  “Blaine, they’ll _love_ you!  How could anyone not!  It will be different, but you’ll get used to it.  We’ll get used to it.  And you’ll find a job, and in a couple months I’ll start school and… well, we’ll really be living, then.  And if— _when_ —things go terribly wrong, then we’ll have your parents just ten minutes away.”

Blaine scooted closer, nuzzling his face up into the crook of Kurt’s neck.  “Kurt thank you.  For staying here.  For finding a way for us, and for fighting with me, and for… well, pretty much everything.”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt said, holding his face and looking into his eyes.  “You just… you have no idea how good you are, do you?  How much you’ve done for me.  I’ll find the right words to tell you, someday… but…” he trailed off with a sigh.  “Right now, I really need to get this apartment together.  And make a new schedule, and it’s going to have to be amendable on a weekly basis.  And find the perfect outfit for tomorrow, which—I haven’t even unpacked our clothes!”  Kurt groaned.  “If only the cleaning crew had done their job correctly, we might have had all of this set up a week ago…”

“You’ll get it done,” Blaine said with certainty.  “I could help, if you’ll let me?”

Helping Kurt always meant getting bossed around a lot and then lectured for not doing things quite right, and it generally wasn’t good for their relationship… but they’d both learned a lot in the year and a half they’d been together, the almost two years they’d been roommates.  Blaine had gotten very good at following instructions exactly, and Kurt had gotten much better at not being mean.

Kurt took a deep breath, looking around the room.  “Yeah,” he finally said.  “Yeah, okay, we’ll do it together.  But _after_ you’ve washed your hands, please, and… ugh,” he looked down at his own hands.  “Also after I’ve washed mine.”

There was a lot of stuff left to work out, but Blaine could feel it in his heart—they were going to do this.

***

As it turned out, the counseling center wasn’t so bad.  He had to do an “intake” where they asked him lots of questions, which was a little scary, and then he was introduced to the group he was joining, which was a lot scary.  But everyone was super nice, including the therapist.  His group therapist, Theo, was also going to be his individual therapist, and he had an appointment with him next week.  Blaine had hoped to meet Kurt’s new therapist, Kendall, or Nathan, whom they’d agreed to see every other week for couple’s sessions, but they had both been busy.

He was happy to be home now.  They scariest part had been using the bus system for the first time, and all that being around strangers made him long for Kurt and the new space they had created—which he loved, really, even if Kurt kept insisting it needed a few more special touches.

Unfortunately, Kurt had just left for his meeting about the new job when Blaine arrived back at the apartment.  The worst part about their new lives was definitely going to be having to be home alone, but Blaine was certain he could get used to it.  It wasn’t like he’d _never_ been alone before—he’d been alone in their room at Dalton while Kurt was still at classes _and_ at home, only it had never been overnight because his parents had made sure he had someone to stay with anytime they were away. 

But he wouldn’t be home alone overnight now, he reminded himself.  It would just be for a few hours, here and there.  He would be fine.

They really needed to get a dog.

Blaine looked at the new schedule, freshly typed and posted on the fridge, but he only had “flex time” right now—“food prep” at 4:30, which he noted for in case Kurt wasn’t home yet—so he settled in to watch some TV.

When Kurt finally got home at a little after five, Blaine couldn’t help but run to him, scooping him into a hug.  “Well hello to you to,” Kurt said, not unkindly.  “Bad day?”

“No.  No, it was a good day; I just missed you.  But Kurt—I made dinner!”

“Did you?”

Blaine recognized that voice.  That was Kurt’s I-know-I-should-be-happy-but-I’m-suspicious voice.

Blaine ignored it.  “Yeah,” he said, beaming.  “Come see!”

He took Kurt’s hand and began to tug him along into the kitchen.  “Wait,” Kurt said, pulling away.  Blaine watched him, shifting impatiently from one foot to the next, while he hung up his suit jacket and his bag, then obediently followed Blaine into the kitchen.

“I made peanut butter and jelly!” Blaine said proudly.  “I even cut the sandwiches into triangles like you like, and there’s salad,” he added, gesturing to a bowl full of lettuce, the container with Kurt’s homemade dressing set out beside it.

Kurt’s face fell.  “Blaine I can’t… wait, did you use the whole grain bread I made?”

Blaine nodded.  “You don’t eat white bread.  And I used that no-sugar-added jelly stuff you like, even though it’s terrible.  You were late,” he all but pleaded.  “I thought you’d want to eat on time…”

“This is lovely, Blaine.  Very thoughtful of you,” Kurt said sincerely, squeezing his hand.

“So you’ll eat it?”

Kurt laughed.  “Of course I’ll eat it, sweetheart… in another 16 minutes.  And I really need to teach you to cook.  Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Blaine said.  “This weekend?”

Kurt shrugged.  “If I can find a way to squeeze it in.  Then some nights we can cook together!  It’ll be fun.”

Blaine wasn’t so sure about that, but he smiled in agreement anyway because it would be worth it to spend more time with Kurt.  He knew Kurt was going to be busier and busier soon, but he also knew Kurt would try his best to make time for him.

Seven o’clock was still _Kurt and Blaine time_ , after all.  Just like always.

Kurt tugged Blaine back into his arms.  “So tell me about today.  How was the counseling center?  Were they good to you?  Do you like it?”

“They’re very nice,” Blaine said.  “Not like at Dalton, but I think it will be fine.  I didn’t get to meet your therapist or Nathan, though.”

Kurt frowned.  “I don’t know why we need couple’s counseling, anyway.  We’re fine.”

“Because Ms. Genna and Mrs. Faber said it would help with the adjustment, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Kurt said.  “I don’t like it, but…”

“…it’s part of trying,” Blaine finished for him. 

Kurt kissed his nose.  “Exactly.  If that’s going to help make things work, then so be it.  I mean, I feel good with this.  Carole and Finn are great, and they’re my family, but really it feels like I’ve been on my own for a while now.  And your family is only ten minutes away and willing to help out with anything you need.  We’re being smart about this.  We’ll be fine.”  He smirked, tilting their foreheads together.  “And it was nice, getting to share a bed last night.  And tonight.  And the night after that…”

Blaine laughed.  “I like that part, too.  It’s maybe my favorite part,” he admitted, then, “how was your meeting?”

“It was good,” Kurt said.  “It’s, umm—” he glanced at the clock.  “Let’s set up for dinner, hmm?”

Once they were settled at the counter with their sandwiches and salad and tall glasses of skim milk, Kurt told him all about it.

“…it’s an amazing opportunity; everything I’d hoped,” he said.  “I’m just worried because… the hours.  I’m not sure how I’ll do when one week I’m juggling fifteen different projects and the next it’s only two, and then school, which is going to be a bit unpredictable too.  Thank God for syllabi!”

“What’s a syllabi?” Blaine asked.

“It’s like a schedule,” Kurt answered, “for a particular class.  It tells you when your tests are and when assignments are due.”

“Oh.  Well, did you tell your boss what you’re worried about?”

Kurt shook his head.  “I don’t want to make a bad impression, or make demands right-off.  And she knows about my condition; it was on my resume.”

“Alright, Kurt,” Blaine said, still feeling a little unsure.  “Just… keep me in the loop, okay?  And please let her know if things get too much.  And, you’ll go to all the sessions, right?  I got a paper that lists our appointments—” he jumped up, shifting through his bag until he found it and handed it to Kurt.

“Hmm,” Kurt said.  “I have to go into the boutique next week during my individual, but I’ll call tomorrow to reschedule.”  He dug into his pocket for his phone, keying the reminder in. 

“I wish I had a job,” Blaine said sadly, watching him.

“I know,” Kurt told him, “and I’m not going to lie: even with my scholarship and the money Dad left me and my job, we could still use the money.  But you’ll find something, Blaine.  Just give it time.”

“Theo wants me to go to the drop-in center.  It’s like, a place for people like me, I guess, where I could go and do activities and… they have a program there that could help me find a job.”

“I know what a drop-in center is, Blaine.  And I think that’s a wonderful idea, if it would make you happy.”

Blaine nodded.  “I want to stay busy.  Especially when you’re not home.”

“Understandable.”  Kurt rested his fork carefully on the edge of his salad plate, then turned to face Blaine, looking him in the eye.  “Blaine, are you okay with all of this?  Do you think it will work for you?  Did I—did I do okay?”  He paused then added, hushed, “You can be honest.”

Blaine couldn’t find the words just then, so instead he leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sweet.  When they pulled back, he settled on, “I’m happy.  I’m with you, and we’re _making_ it work.”

Kurt smiled, one of his smiles that was soft and rare and _real_ , so real that Blaine could feel it tingling clear down to his toes, how happy he was that Kurt was happy.  “I love you,” Kurt said, and Blaine kissed him again.

It wasn’t until they got back to eating that Blaine added, “Just so you know, I’d be happier with a dog!”

He figured he would give it time and possibly more begging.  Kurt pretty much always gave Blaine what he wanted in the end.

***

That night they spent _Kurt and Blaine time_ making love (which, okay, was the way they spent _Kurt and Blaine time_ last night, too.  Blaine wasn’t complaining.)  Afterwards, Kurt let him play games on the new iPad he’d gotten for school while he pulled out his sewing work, both of them still naked and huddled close in bed.  It was _awesome_ , and they just stayed that way for the rest of the night.  They each left for a bit for bathroom time, which Kurt returned from wearing pajamas.  Blaine decided to stay naked, because he could do that now and because Kurt actually loved it even though he pretended to complain.

Blaine loved having evenings like this.  He loved their apartment.  He loved their bed (King-sized!) and he especially loved Kurt.

When it was time for lights out, Blaine snuggled into Kurt’s arms, sighing happily.  Things definitely weren’t going to be easy, not at first and maybe not ever.  But they were here and they were together and no matter what happened, there was nowhere else he would ever want to be.


	24. ZigZag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long guys - I haven't been feeling the best, so it's been difficult to concentrate on fic. But I want to say how much I appreciate your patience and all of your comments; they've made my experience with this story so much richer and more satisfying. Thank you <3
> 
> Also, eventually there will be one shots... I've gotten a few prompts on tumblr ;-)

_December 2016_ ~ Zigzag

_Date: 09/10/2009_

_Psychosocial Assessment Summary:_

_Kurt Hummel is a 16-year old boy who presents to Dalton roughly six months following the death of his father and only remaining biological parent.  He comes here voluntarily and with the blessing of his step-family, Carole and Finn Hudson, who appear sincerely supportive._

Kurt stared at his image in the mirror, straightening his tie, fiddling with the cuff links on his tux.  He found it strange that he didn’t feel nervous—at least not about the commitment he was about to make.  Lingering in the back of his mind was a great deal of anxiety about the ceremony and the music and the reception going smoothly, exactly as planned, but Kurt was doing his best to ignore it.  Those things weren’t what today was about, after all.

Today was about them: about Kurt and Blaine and everything they had somehow, miraculously built together.

The path they’d traversed to arrive at this day hadn’t been as straight as Kurt might have liked.  It had zigzagged several times, in both expected and utterly unanticipated directions.  But it always brought them back on course.  It always brought them back together.

Kurt’s first year of college had in many ways been the hardest for them.  Only a few weeks in, the stress had begun to wear on Kurt.  He cancelled several therapy sessions and amended his schedule so severely to incorporate all his new responsibilities that it left little time for Blaine.  He began to lose patience with Blaine, started to snap at him for all the little things he’d long grown to tolerate, which led to the kind of fighting they’d never really done before, which ultimately led to Blaine moving in with his parents for nearly three weeks before Kurt finally managed to get his act together.  Their separation triggered a depressive episode for Blaine, which lasted for almost a month after he’d moved back into the apartment.  Even after that, there had still been more arguments than either of them would have preferred.  Kurt knew well that most of their disagreements were largely his fault.  He had known what he was doing, how destructive he was being, but he couldn’t _stop_.

_Kurt is currently experiencing a heightened sense of sadness stemming from the loss of his father, which is impacting his sleep, appetite, and ability to cope with day-to-day tasks.  Additionally, he exhibits a desire for heightened control over his environment and places an abnormal amount of emphasis on perfection, cleanliness, punctuality, and morality._

It had been such a difficult fix, because Kurt simply wasn’t _normal_.  He could pass for it most of the time, and he had absolutely no desire to change, but that didn’t alter the facts.  When most people were stressed, they could take a vacation or call in sick to work or choose to drop an obligation.  Kurt couldn’t do any of those things, because every single option could potentially—would almost definitely—make the problem worse.

_These symptoms have grown in severity over the past six months and have increasingly become the cause of distress and interfered with Kurt’s ability to function.  Kurt’s family reports that he has grown extremely difficult to live with; making demands that they find nearly impossible to meet and displaying extreme irritation at the smallest discrepancies.  They suggest that Kurt might benefit from a more structured environment where he can receive therapeutic help.  After interviewing Kurt and his family, I agree that he is a suitable candidate for Dalton’s program._

Kendal and Nathan were a godsend that year.  They’d helped Kurt find ways to make life more manageable, to communicate in ways that Blaine (and his boss, and his teachers) could understand, to understand the ways Blaine was communicating back.  Improvements had been slow and hard-earned, surely, but he had learned more than a few invaluable lessons, and he and Blaine had somehow come out of it stronger…

Only for Blaine to grow manic, seemingly out of nowhere, for the second time.  Kurt had driven him to the hospital when he didn’t know what else to do, had molded the rest of his life around the hospital’s visiting hours.  Two weeks passed before Blaine was discharged, but he was depressed yet again when it felt like they had only just worked through that.  It lingered this time—adjusting the medications didn’t seem to work, not for a long time, and Blaine fell into a pattern of rapid cycling over the following year and a half that was nearly impossible to cope with.  Some days it was all Kurt could do to keep from sobbing in sheer frustration and also loneliness, because so often Blaine simply wasn’t himself, and Kurt _missed_ him.

But they had all banded together to help—Blaine’s parents and Carole, their therapists and fellow group members, their friends and even their brothers in whatever small ways they could long-distance.  And it was sudden, miraculous, like the sky had cleared when it was over: 1 day normal, 2 days normal, 3 days normal, and then an entire week, a month, two months.

Since then, Blaine had only experienced more manageable episodes of hypomania and shorter, milder bouts of depression.  Kurt knew that it was likely to get bad again at some point.  He knew more surely than ever that Blaine was worth it.

And now they were here.  There hadn’t even been a proposal, not really.  Neither of them had needed one: spending their lives together was a destiny they had both always recognized.  They had been Christmas shopping at the mall when Blaine tugged Kurt into a jewelry store and right up to the display of wedding rings and said, “We should get some, don’t you think?” and they’d picked them out that very day.

One year later, Kurt was just as certain.  There was no room for being anxious about life with Blaine.  Blaine had always fit with him; he felt right, like they were made to be together.  Cynic that he was, even Kurt couldn’t deny the connection between them.  There was no life without Blaine.  Marriage was simply a formality, a way to celebrate with their family and friends and the people who had supported them, a way to tell the world what they already knew.

They had found their path.  It might wind and turn, zig and zag, spin for all Kurt cared.  They would travel it together, forever yoked.

_Diagnostic Impression:_

_Axis One: Rule out depression_

_Axis Two: Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder_

_Axis Three: deferred_

_Axis Four: Grief over loss of father, Strained relationship with remaining family members_

_Axis Five: 42_

_Susanna Faber, MA, LPC, NCC                                                                                                                  9/10/09_

***

The wedding they’d settled on was small.  There weren’t many people they felt overly close to anyway, and Kurt had recognized that his potential for getting too caught up in the details could lead to something not-so-pleasant, so they’d chosen something simple and enjoyable all the same: a cruise ship wedding with an intimate ceremony.  They were currently on day 4 of their Caribbean tour, which would end conveniently in Florida where Kurt and Blaine were planning to stay an extra week on their own before flying back home.  Blaine was exceedingly excited about Disney World and the Harry Potter theme park. 

Kurt was exceedingly excited about being alone with Blaine after so many days of outside interaction.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love the people they’d brought with them, or that he didn’t enjoy their company, but he’d long grown used to the comfort of only Blaine and August in their quiet little apartment—which was not nearly as small as the cramped stateroom the three of them were sharing now—and he couldn’t wait to reclaim a fraction of that peace.

He was also looking forward to the sex.  _Married_ sex.  Everyone assured him it was wonderful, better, and Kurt personally couldn’t wait to find out.

For now though, there was sunshine streaming into the tiny open chapel, and Blaine was stepping towards him looking as stunning as anticipated in the tux Kurt had designed for him.  Kurt’s heart felt so full and bright that it was nearly enough to match the emotion shining in Blaine’s eyes.

Their hands met, and they smiled.

“Are we really going to do this?” Blaine whispered to him, as though in awe.

Kurt squeezed his fingers, imagining what they’d feel like when Blaine wore his ring there, snug among them.  In a matter of minutes, he would find out.  “Didn’t we really almost six year ago?” he said in answer. 

They walked down the aisle hand in hand, and Kurt only noticed in passing how lovely their mothers looked in their dresses, how joyful their brothers seemed to be standing at their sides.  He was sure the officiant gave a lovely speech on the virtues of marriage and commitment and how to make it all work, but if pressed, he couldn’t remember a word of it.

It was nothing they hadn’t heard before from one therapist or another, most likely.

His awareness began to fade back in seconds too late, when he realized belatedly it was time for him to say his vows.  He dug awkwardly into his pants pocket for the piece of paper he’d printed his speech on, knowing full well he’d forget every painstakingly memorized word the moment he was called upon to remember them.

And his heart began to pound as he felt all their eyes on him, so he focused instead on Blaine—Blaine who was returning the vice-grip Kurt had on his hand with equivalent force, Blaine whose eyes were the only pair that offered Kurt any comfort, Blaine who was the only one who truly mattered, at least in this moment.

“When I first met you, I was trapped.”  He paused, desperately trying to steady his voice.  “I knew the ways to be better, knew the ways that I was wrong, but I didn’t want that.  Better.  Better had no meaning to me, because there was nothing I wanted beyond the world I’d created for myself.”

He took a deep breath and pushed forward.  “You are freedom, Blaine Anderson.  People used to tell me that they saw me as someone who wasn’t afraid to be my true self, no matter what the cost or circumstance.  Maybe that was true once, but now… now that’s the kind of person I see when I look at you.   With you, I always feel like exactly who I was meant to be.  I don’t think I know how to be myself around most people, not anymore, but you inspire me to try.  And I know all the psychological reasons why it’s so hard for me thanks to years of therapy, and I could be clichéd and go on and on about how I lost so many people who loved me, who I loved, and I put up a barrier, and all of that... but when that happens in the story books, someone comes along and breaks through the barrier.  Revitalizes the poor orphan.

“But the thing is, Blaine, if I had a barrier… you didn’t break it.  You didn’t have to break it, because it was never there for you.  You moved into our room and just as casually into my heart and I… there are no words for what that means.  Loving you, letting you in, was never a choice.  There’s always been a connection there, like we belonged.  Like I was made to love you, and you were made to love me, and… I’m getting sappy now, and I hate sappy.

“I don’t understand how anyone could not love you.  Your heart is so big.  Your energy, your enthusiasm for life… it’s not part of a commitment to being a good person.  It’s just who you are.  And I am forever grateful for that, because I don’t think anyone with less love than you could possibly love me so unconditionally.”

_“Kurt_ ,” Blaine said, stepping closer.

“I promised you years ago that I would keep trying.  We’ve kept trying together, you and I, and we’ve maybe failed a few times and had to try again.  But today, I feel like I should promise you something more than that.  I don’t want to try anymore, Blaine.  Today I want to promise you I’ll _do_.

“I’ll do my best to be a good husband to you, a good partner, to always be considerate of you and what you want and what you need.  Even if someday that’s another dog.”  He paused, grinning, and they both laughed.  “I’ll do my best to support you through whatever lies ahead, even when our symptomatic crazy clashes like it has all too often in the past.  I’ll do my best to stay well for you and to keep you as well as possible.  I’ll love you forever, because that’s something I do as automatically as breathing, and I trust nothing so much as I trust that that will always be there.”

He finished in a rush, chest tight, and Blaine’s hand held him steady, and Blaine’s eyes made it safe.

*******

_Date: 10/04/2010_

_Psychosocial Assessment Summary:_

_Blaine comes to Dalton at the recommendation of his previous therapist following a lull in his academic progress.  Mrs. Jackson suggested to Blaine’s parents that Blaine might benefit from a new environment and broader access to a more experienced range of staff._

Blaine was so excited that his hands were shaking and his legs were jumpy and he had to focus just to breathe.  He had wanted a wedding most of his life, and he had wanted a wedding with Kurt for literally years, and it was actually happening and he was so happy it was almost too happy because secretly?  Blaine was never really sure he would get a wedding at all.

But now he was standing at the front of a tiny, beautiful chapel with the sea breeze blowing at the edges of his fancy tuxedo and the most beautiful man he had ever known holding his hand.  And he let Kurt’s words wash over him, filling him up until the joy was bubbling up and pouring out through his eyes.  By the time Kurt was finished speaking and it was Blaine’s turn to speak, he couldn’t imagine actually having to come up with words. 

_Blaine’s academic performance is and, based on the reports received, has always been far below what is expected for his grade-level in all subjects.  IQ testing was conducted on Blaine at around age five with a resultant score of approximately 59.  Currently, Blaine, age 17, is reading and writing at about a fifth grade level, and his performance in mathematics is at a third grade level._

He had a paper with him, too, which he fumbled for now and found safely tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket.  “I, umm, I had Cooper help me get the words right.  I wanted it to be perfect for you, but they still came from here.”  Awkwardly clutching the paper, he held his hand up—the one that wasn’t twined with Kurt’s—and pressed it over his heart.

Kurt nodded, his pretty eyes watery and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Kurt, there are… there are lots of things that make me happy,” Blaine began to read.  “But nothing makes me as happy as you.  And when I’m not happy, you’re the one who’s  there with me in the darkness and makes me want to keep walking, because you help me remember that we’ll come out on the other side.  And when things go crazy and sometimes get so loud and demanding and sometimes I feel so scared and overwhelmed that I cry, you stay with me then, too.  And you take care of me always and you make me feel safe.  Sometimes you’re the only thing that feels safe.  And I’ve tried to be that for you, too—”

“I know you do.  You are,” Kurt said, sniffling.

Blaine sniffled too, only longer and louder.  “I want everything with you, Kurt,” he said, not even bothering with the paper now.  “I want to be with you forever, because I just love you.  I love you so, so much Kurt.  I love you—”

“Shh,” Kurt said, shifting forward to kiss his trembling lips, his hand big and warm on Blaine’s face.  Blaine knew that part wasn’t supposed to be happening yet, but he didn’t really care.

He let it go on for a few seconds before he forced himself to pull back, refocus on his paper.

_Blaine’s adaptive functioning also suffers.  He is socially immature and his speech often seems childish, although in my opinion, some of this might result from his mother’s overprotective nature.  Blaine reportedly struggles with some fine motor skills.  Based on a few basic tests, he seems to have underdeveloped problem solving and reasoning skills, displaying thinking that often appears illogical or inapplicable to the presented scenario.  These are all consistent with his established diagnosis of Mental Retardation.  I recommend further testing to lend a better understanding of Blaine’s current level of functioning and aid in the development of a treatment plan._

“I want to offer you so much more than I probably can,” Blaine read.  “I promise to continue to do my best to follow the schedule, and not to eat on the couch anymore—even when you’re not home.  I promise to not let August in our room ever again, or even the new puppy you’re going to agree to soon.  I promise to bring you a slice of cheesecake home from work once a week, but only once a week.  I promise to always keep trying and learning and growing, and to let you know as soon as things start getting bad, and to let you know as soon as you start getting bad.  I promise to love you and always stay with you no matter what, and to do my very best to be everything you want and need and always make you happy.”  He stopped, squeezing Kurt’s hand.  “That’s… that’s the end.”

“Some of the most honest vows I’ve ever heard,” the officiant spoke up, and Kurt nodded in agreement. 

“They were perfect, Blaine,” he said.  “Perfectly you.”

Blaine smiled, pleased that he’d gotten something right.

_Although he is not currently displaying symptoms, Blaine additionally has a pre-existing diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder Type II, for which he is currently taking medication.  He has had multiple past episodes of depression (Blaine reports three) and numerous hypomanic episodes._

After that, there wasn’t much left to do but let the officiant talk some more and light a candle and slide the rings onto each other’s fingers, which was maybe Blaine’s very favorite part aside from the vows: seeing the glimmering metal on Kurt’s slender finger, getting to feel it against his own.  When the officiant told them they could kiss they kissed for a long time, August barking at their feet and everyone clapping, and Blaine felt like he could maybe fly right now so long as he could take Kurt with him.

Actually, he only ended up taking him to the reception, but that was pretty awesome too.

Blaine loved all the food on the cruise ship, and he loved that he could eat as much of it as he wanted and Kurt mostly didn’t say anything, only clamped his lips shut very tight like he always did when he wanted to say something really badly but knew he shouldn’t.  But tonight, even Kurt seemed to be eating a good bit, and laughing more, and even drinking more, and that made their entire reception even more fun.

When it was time to dance they slow-danced to Billy Joel’s _Just the Way You Are_ , which had been their song since the day it came on the radio while Kurt was driving him home from the hospital.  Kurt had started to sing along only his words were all broken up, until finally he pulled over to the side of the road and hugged Blaine and cried.

Blaine was okay with that.  He liked the song too, and it fit them really well.  And he liked being with Kurt like this, holding him so close with Kurt’s arms around his neck and the warmth of Kurt’s breath against his ear.

They drank some more and danced some more and shoved pieces of cheesecake into each other’s mouths, and they danced with their mothers and Blaine danced with Daddy while Kurt danced with Finn, and they basically just had a ton of fun.  And Blaine maybe got what Kurt liked to call _more-than-a-little-tipsy_ and accidentally blurted out to everyone how proud he was that Kurt was opening his own boutique soon which was supposed to be a secret, but Kurt wasn’t even mad.

There were lots of presents, even more presents than they’d gotten yesterday for Christmas, and Blaine had to wonder how they were going to get them all home and where they were going to fit, because they would probably get even more presents at the belated New Years/wedding party they were having when they got home.  There were going to be a lot of people at that one—friends from college and the counseling center and Dalton, all their therapists new and old, and even Kurt’s (former) boss and Blaine’s boss from the bakery.

They needed a bigger home, really.  He’d been thinking that for a while now, because August would like a bigger yard and they would certainly need one when he finally talked Kurt into getting another puppy.  And Kurt could use his own sewing room, and they could both use a bigger kitchen, and even though he knew it was silly, sometimes Blaine still found himself dreaming about babies.

_Blaine comes from a very supportive family who, as mentioned, appear to be extremely involved in his treatment.  He has been home schooled by his mother, and has thus had limited interaction with other children save for those he sees at church.  In my professional opinion, Blaine stands to benefit tremendously from both Dalton’s academic program and exposure to our diverse population of same-age peers._

None of that was important though; none of it was really needed to make him happy.  Because he had Kurt, had Kurt now for always, and they had just had Christmas and the most perfect wedding and they were seeing new places with the people they loved the most—Mama and Papa and Cooper and August and Blaine’s best friend Trent from the center, Carole and Finn and Rachel (mostly because she was still dating Finn) and Mercedes and Elliott, Kurt’s best friend from college.  And then they were going to be alone in Florida and Blaine was going to finally ride the Hogwart’s Express, and he couldn’t think of anything much more exciting than that.

And he had a job he loved and Kurt had an awesome, successful career, and sure they still had things like therapy and medicine and hospitals and very, very bad days, but overall Blaine thought he was probably the Most Lucky Guy In The World.  He loved his life and he was happy, more happy than he had ever dreamed was possible.

_Diagnostic Impression:_

_Axis One: Bipolar Disorder, Type II_

_Axis Two: Mental Retardation, mild to moderate_

_Axis Three: deferred_

_Axis Four: deferred, but note previous social isolation_

_Axis Five: 58_

_Genna Hastings, MSW, LCSW                                                                                                                  10/04/2010_

He was still high on feelings, high on Kurt and high on life when they stumbled back to their room for the night.  When Kurt got out of the bathroom he kissed Blaine and vaguely pawed at his chest, but Blaine could see he was way too tired for sex, which was okay because Blaine was sleepy too, and he may have taken the liberty of revising their schedule for the following morning just a little.  He hurried through the bathroom routine Kurt had set up for him, carefully hung up his tux just as he was taught and then curled himself around Kurt’s sleeping form, his heart still singing as he pressed the pad of his thumb against his wedding ring.

They had made it, and they would continue to make it, for today and every day, through days of their bizarre variation of normal and days when reality was so out of reach it was all they could do to keep their fingers locked, hold on.  

Forever.


End file.
